


Life Under the Sea

by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Gen, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Mer AU, Sea Grunkles, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiMelone/pseuds/The%20Last%20Speecher
Summary: Stanley and Stanford Pines have achieved their dream of being sailors, even hiring a crewmember for their ship named Fiddleford McGucket.  But when they sail into treacherous waters, they discover Fiddleford isn't human, but rather a merman.  This discovery leads to a desire to explore the ocean like merfolk and that desire itself leads to a permanent, unwitting transformation.(Compilation of ficlets cross-listed on Tumblr)





	1. Beginnings

“And this is where we’ll start our great adventure!” Stan said enthusiastically, opening his arms wide in a showman’s gesture.  Ford looked at the marina.  It was the same as it was every day.  Seagulls cried overhead.  Boats were docked at the pier.  Sailors boarded and disembarked ships, some carrying boxes full of exotic fruits.

“Well, clearly,” Ford said, “our adventure as sailors will start at the place where boats are kept.”  Stan pouted.

“Geez, Sixer, why do you gotta take the fun outta it?  This is it!  Aren’t you excited?”

“I think I’ll be more excited when we actually have a boat.  And can sail as far away from Pops as possible.” 

“Let’s look at some of the merchandise available then, shall we?” Stan suggested.  Ford shrugged.

“As good a way to spend the day as any, I suppose.”  Ford followed Stan down the pier, preferring to keep to his more reserved gait.  Unlike Stan, who pranced proudly on the wooden boards like he owned every ship he passed by. 

“How ‘bout this one?” Stan said, pointing at one named _Sea Lady_.  Ford squinted.

“No.”

“Yeah, I agree.  Hmm, maybe this one?”

“Hmm, no.”

In this manner, the two boys walked down the pier, examining each boat before deciding it wasn’t good enough for them.  They arrived at the last boat.

“Okay, but check _this_ puppy out!” Stan enthused.  Ford adjusted his glasses and smiled.

“I like it!”

“Me too!  It’s gotta big ole sail, and it’s brown, oh, and look!  It’s even got a fishing net full of- what the heck is that?!”  Stan stared at the fishing net, swung over the side of the boat for all to see.  Ford walked closer.

“A very large fish?  Maybe a mutated sea bass of some sort- whoa!”  The “mutated sea bass” rolled over.  Stan and Ford could see clearly now that while the lower half of the creature was green-scaled like a fish, the upper half was unmistakably human.  “A…mermaid?” Ford said cautiously.  The mermaid stared at Stan and Ford pleadingly.

“Help me,” the mermaid whispered.  Stan cocked his head.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” Stan asked.  The mermaid looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“Ignore him,” Ford said.  The mermaid nodded silently.  “What’s your name?”

“Y’ can call me F.”

“F.  Okay, F, what’s going on?  Why are you in a fishing net?”  F scoffed.

“Ain’t it obvious?  Got caught.”  F’s eyes filled with tears.  “They’re goin’ to sk-skin me, I just know it!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stan said.  “Skin you?  What- why would someone do that to another person?”

“‘S what I’ve heard,” F replied.  Stan puffed out his chest.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to free you, F,” Stan said firmly.  He emptied his pockets, scattering loose change and candy wrappers onto the pier.  F watched with interest.

“What is that yer wearin’?” F asked.

“Huh?  Oh, these are shorts.  From my older brother.  But I guess you wouldn’t know what shorts are.  You can’t really wear them,” Stan said, continuing to dig through his pockets.  “Ah-ha!”  He held up a pocket knife proudly.  Ford blanched.

“Where’d you get that?” Ford asked.

“Found it.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?  What matters is that we’re gonna free this mermaid with it.”  Stan boarded the boat eagerly and began to saw away at the net.  “Keep watch, Sixer.”

“You got it,” Ford said, turning around to keep an eye on the rest of the pier.  No one seemed to care about the two young boys fooling around near a boat. 

“Done!” Stan said proudly.  F and the net fell into the water.  “Oh, wait, did it not work?”  F surfaced, head bobbing above the water, and beamed.

“Ya did it!” F exclaimed.  “Thank you, thank you so much!”

“It’s no problem,” Ford said.  Stan frowned.

“Since we freed you, do we get, like, a blessing or magic or gold or something.” 

“Nope.  Sorry.  Don’t got any of that,” F said apologetically.

“Oh.”

“Again, thank you so much.”

“Yeah, no prob,” Stan said.  F waved at them cheerfully before disappearing underwater.  Ford sat down on the pier.  Stan traipsed off the boat and joined Ford, dangling his legs over the edge.  “So, how pissed do you think those sailors are gonna be when they see the ruined net?”

“ _So_ pissed,” Ford said.  Stan grinned.

“Cool.”  A few minutes passed in silence as they watched the marina.  “You were right, Ford.  There’s all sortsa weird stuff in the ocean.”  Stan put an arm around Ford’s shoulders.  “Imagine, when we’re all grown up, we’ll be dashing sailors- no, pirates!  And we’ll find treasure and get babes, and not just any babes, _mermaid_ babes, like the one we saw today!”

“That does sound nice.”

“Well, duh, it sounds nice.  And it’ll happen.  You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

**Years Later**

“Geez, Fidds, could ya think ‘bout that sailor any more often than ya do?” a teasing voice asked, breaking Fiddleford from his reverie.  Startled, he looked over at the speaker.  His younger siblings were treading water next to the pier, grinning at him mischievously.  Fiddleford sighed.

“I ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout that sailor,” Fiddleford said.  “And get back under the pier ‘fore someone sees ya.”

“Oh, relax,” Angie said, lifting herself up and taking a seat next to Fiddleford.  “Ain’t no one ‘round to see us.”  She looked him up and down.  “So’s I’m pretty sure ya can go back to yer proper form now.  It’s weird seein’ ya with legs.” 

“I agree,” Lute said, taking a seat on the other side of Fiddleford.  “Yer not human, why do ya pretend to be one so much?”

“It’s ‘cause he’s in _love_ ,” Angie said goofily, splashing her tail.  Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“Yer way off base.”

“Ooh, Angie, yer right,” Lute said.  “That sounds like somethin’ someone in love would say.”

“It’s also somethin’ someone who isn’t in love would say,” Fiddleford said.  “Which I ain’t.”  Angie and Lute rolled their eyes.  “Go back home.  Ain’t Violynn visitin’ with her guppies?”

“Yeah.  That’s why we followed ya,” Lute said.  He scoffed.  “Fifteen lil ones in the house all at once?  No thank you.”

“There’s always at least two cryin’, at any given time of day,” Angie said.  She shook her head.  “Too many month-old guppies.  We needed a break.”

“Okay, but you’ll need to take yer break somewhere else,” Fiddleford hissed.  “I’m meetin’ with that sailor in a few minutes.”

“What?  Really?” Lute asked.  “Why?”

“He wants to offer me a job on his boat,” Fiddleford said with a shrug.  Angie and Lute frowned.

“You don’t know squat ‘bout boats,” Angie said. 

“I know.  But he’s seen me watchin’ and he asked me and I told him I had an itch fer sailin’ that I ain’t gotten to scratch yet.”

“Ugh.  Sailing,” Lute said with a disgusted expression.  “That’s a darn good way to disrespect the ocean.”  Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“I know full well yer feelin’s on sailin’.  But this is my choice, and the two of ya really need to get goin’!” Fiddleford said firmly.  Angie and Lute groaned and slid off the pier.

“We’ll stay underwater,” Angie said.  “But we won’t leave until you leave.”

“Fine, fine!  Now hide!” Fiddleford said.  Footsteps echoed down the pier as Angie and Lute finally dove out of sight.  Ford took a seat in the spot Lute had just vacated.  He smiled at Fiddleford.

“I must say, this is a very clandestine meeting, Mr. McGucket.”  Bubbles rose up from under the pier.  Fiddleford kicked a post, reminding his siblings to keep quiet and stay out of sight.

 _So what if I gave him a more “human” name?  It’s not_ that _funny._

“Please, call me Fiddleford.”

“Okay.  So, Fiddleford, you wanted to join my crew?” Ford asked.  Fiddleford nodded.

“Yessir.  I’ve got a fondness fer the ocean.”

“Do you know the ocean, though?” Ford asked.

“Yes, of course!  I know her.  And I know the creatures what live in her, too,” Fiddleford said.  Ford cocked his head, clearly interested.

“Oh, really?  That’s quite fascinating.  The reason my brother and I are setting out on this voyage is partially to collect data upon the mysteries the sea holds.”

“What’s the rest of yer reason?” Fiddleford asked. 

“To find treasure,” Ford said.  Fiddleford nodded, but decided to keep his knowledge of sunken treasure locations to himself.

_Don’t want to come off too strong._

“Now, if you agree to come, we can’t pay you until we find our first ‘score’, as my brother says,” Ford said.

“And that’s perfectly fine with me,” Fiddleford replied.  Ford nodded slowly. 

“Let me be frank.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“I don’t think I can turn you down, even if you _are_ lying to me about your knowledge of sea creatures.  I mean, I’d prefer to, but apparently two men alone would have difficulty crewing a ship of our size.”  Ford took a deep breath.  “So, yes, I suppose I can- what was that?” Ford said, distracted.  Fiddleford watched, trying to keep a straight face, as his baby sister did a dramatic leap out of the ocean.  Ford looked at Fiddleford eagerly.  “Was that-”

“A mermaid, yes,” Fiddleford said, seizing his chance to prove himself to the sailor.  “You can tell it’s a female by the scale shape.  And the fin indicates that it’s an oviparous variety.”

“Really,” Ford said, leaning closer to him.  Fiddleford nodded.  There was a splash.  Fiddleford and Ford looked over.  Lute’s tail was just disappearing under the water.

“Also an oviparous variety, but male,” Fiddleford said.  Ford beamed at him.

“Mr. McGucket, we’d be glad to have you as part of our crew.”

“I accept,” Fiddleford said, trying to tamp down his enthusiasm. 

“Well, then, welcome aboard.”

 

* * *

 

“Stanley, Stanford, I seriously question the safety of sailin’ into these waters,” Fiddleford said nervously.

“This is the only possible route to the island,” Ford said.  Fiddleford rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do we _really_ need to go there?”

“If we want treasure, we do,” Stan retorted.  “Anyways, why are you nervous all of a sudden?  Are you getting seasick or something?”

“No,” Fiddleford said, sounding offended.  “It’s just- these waters ain’t safe.  Merfolk live here.”

“Merfolk?” Stanford said.  “That’s even more of a reason to be here.”  Fiddleford groaned.

“Shouldn’t have mentioned that,” he mumbled.  “Seriously, Stanford, merfolk ain’t no joke.”

“What makes you say that?”

“‘Cause I know how they are.  They ain’t the sweet lil things ya hear ‘bout in bedtime stories.  They’re man-eating killers who lure sailors to their deaths with their hypnotic song.  They’re-”

“Right there,” Stan interrupted, pointing to a nearby cluster of rocks sticking out of the sea.  Two merfolk were sunning themselves on it, their brightly colored tails catching and reflecting light onto the water.  Stan squinted.  “Can’t see them very well.”  He dug a telescope out of one of his pockets and held it up to his eye.  “Ah, shit, they’re asleep.”

“That’s a good thing,” Fiddleford hissed.  “We might be able to pass by ‘em without drawin’ attention to ourselves.”  Stan ignored him.

“Hey, merpeople!” Stan shouted.  The men saw the merfolk wake up suddenly and the dive into the ocean.  “Damn, did I scare them off?  I wanted to see how far I could get with a fish-person.” 

“Ya didn’t scare us off, don’t worry none,” a languid voice said smoothly.  It had a saccharine feel, like it was the verbal equivalent of honey.  Stan peered over the side of the ship.  The merfolk were there, their heads above the water, staring at the humans with interest.  Now that they were closer, it was obvious that one was a mermaid, and the other was a merman.

“Hey there,” Stan said, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously.  The mermaid giggled.  “Hey, Ford, Fiddlesticks, come say hi to the merpeople.” 

“But of course!” Ford said eagerly, rushing over to join his twin.  Fiddleford stayed back.

“Fiddlesticks, seriously.  They seem nice.  Nothing like what you said they’d be,” Stan said.

“They’re just pretendin’,” Fiddleford said.  “It ain’t safe.  They’ll start singin’ any minute, and then I’ll have to-”  He was cut off by a splash.  Stan had jumped overboard.  “Stanley!” Fiddleford shouted.  He ran over to the side of the ship and looked at the ocean.  The mermaid was whispering something in Stan’s ear.  Stan nodded eagerly, his eyes glazed over.  Fiddleford swallowed.  “Stanford, this don’t bode well.”

“What do you mean?  They’re harmless.  Friendly, even.  After all, only a good being could sing so sweetly and wonderfully,” Ford said in a dreamy voice.  Fiddleford looked over.  Like Stan, Ford’s eyes were glazed over, as he stared at the merman. 

“Great,” Fiddleford muttered.  He looked at the mermaid and Stan again.  The mermaid had grabbed a hold of Stan’s hand and was pulling him underwater.  “No!”  The merman stopped singing, startled.

“…Fidds?” the merman said hesitantly.  Fiddleford suddenly recognized the merfolk enchanting Stan and Ford.

“Lute!” Fiddleford shouted at the merman.  “Cut it out, and rescue that sailor from Angie ‘fore she drowns him!”  Lute blinked.

“But-”

“Do it!” Fiddleford barked.  With a flick of his tail, Lute went underwater.  After a few moments, he emerged with the mermaid and Stan.

“Fidds!” the mermaid said cheerfully.  Fiddleford glowered at her.  “Uh-oh.”  Fiddleford grabbed a length of rope and tossed it over the side.

“Stan, get back up here.” 

“You got it, man,” Stan muttered.  He swam over to the rope and climbed it, crawling over the side of the ship and landing heavily on the deck.  “Geez.  Fiddlesticks, how did you do that?”  Ford shook his head free from the trance he had been put under.

“I second the question,” Ford said.  Fiddleford sighed.

“When I decided to join the sea-farin’ folk, my fam’ly promised to not harass anyone on a ship with me.  But clearly, they didn’t pay attention,” he shot at the merfolk still treading water by the ship. 

“We didn’t know it was you!” Lute shouted. 

“Wait.  Your family?” Stan asked.  He stared at Fiddleford.  “What, did mermaids adopt you or something?”

“No, I’m 100% merman by blood,” Fiddleford said proudly.

“But…you have legs,” Ford said. 

“So?” one of the merfolk yelled. 

“Quit tryin’ to be part of the conversation!  I’ll tell Ma and Pa what ya did, don’t push yer luck!” Fiddleford snapped.

“Seriously, how can you be a merman?” Stan asked.  “You have legs!”  There was a splash.  The three men took steps backward as something landed on the deck.  The mermaid smiled at Fiddleford.

“Hey, Fidds.”

“Angie, I told ya not to-”

“Ya didn’t tell me I couldn’t board the ship,” Angie retorted.  Stan and Ford watched her large, extravagant yellow tail slowly morph into two pale legs.  She stood shakily.  “Been a while since I used legs,” she said.  Fiddleford sighed.  He walked over to her and put one of her arms around his shoulders, helping her stand.  “Thanks, Fidds.”  She frowned at Stan and Ford.  “Why are they all red?”

“They’re blushin’.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause yer naked.”

“Oh.  Does that mean Lute shouldn’t come up?”  There was another splash.  A merman landed heavily on the deck.  “Never mind.  Too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a new multichap. Rather, it's a compilation of ficlets I've written on my Tumblr account (thelastspeecher.tumblr.com) for what I call the MerGucket AU. I decided that I should start cross-listing more of the things I've posted there on here, particularly since my current multichaps are in a state of hiatus due to a combination of lack of inspiration and lack of time to sit down and focus on writing them. I want to continue both the multichaps I have, but in the meantime, have something else I've written.
> 
> I did my best to connect the ficlets in a cohesive nature, but since they were originally written as stand-alone stories, there may be some inconsistencies. If something doesn't follow or make sense, let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


	2. Growing Pains

Ford and Fiddleford approached the MerGucket house.  Ford gasped.

“Your home is in a cliff?”

“Yessir,” Fiddleford said proudly.  “Safest way to live, my folks always say.  Protects our fam’ly and guppies from predators.”  Ford looked curiously at Fiddleford.

“Predators?  Those are a concern?” Ford asked.

“Well, sure.  Don’t act like you land folk are more ‘civilized’ or somethin’; if ya lived in bear country, you’d be worried ‘bout bears.  We live in shark, barracuda, guppy eel, and all sorts of other dangerous things country,” Fiddleford retorted.

“Oh, sorry.  I didn’t mean to insult you,” Ford said, startled.

_Apparently I’ve touched a nerve._

“No, it’s fine.  I just get a bit defensive ‘bout mer society.  My folks raised me to be proud of my heritage.”

“So that’s why you pretend to be human all the time?” someone shouted.  Fiddleford and Ford looked around.  Stan and Angie were treading water by the front door, clearly waiting for them.  Angie punched Stan playfully.

“Stanley, be polite,” she said.  “It’s self-preservation, not shame.”

“Fair enough,” Stan said with a shrug.  He grinned at Ford and Fiddleford.  “You nerds ready to head in?”

“Of course!” Ford said eagerly.  Angie opened the door and swam in.

“Ma, Pa, we’re home!” Angie shouted. 

“We’re in the kitchen, darlin’!” a female voice shouted.  Angie gestured for the others to follow.  Ford and Stan swam in, with Fiddleford bringing up the rear.

“Wow,” Ford whispered, staring in awe at his surroundings.  “This- this is phenomenal!”

“Nah, it’s a pretty basic mer home,” Angie said idly.  She began to swim away.  “Aside from it bein’ in a cliff, that is.  Come on, our folks are in the kitchen waitin’.”  Stan and Ford followed Angie from the entrance, down a hallway, and then into another room.  Fiddleford had to clear his throat multiple times, as Ford was fascinated by everything and would stop to admire a simple knickknack.  As they swam into the kitchen, Stan and Ford saw three merfolk sitting at a table.  One was Lute, whom they had met already.

“I take it these are your parents?” Ford said.  The merman and mermaid beamed.

“Yes, indeed,” the mermaid said.  She cocked her head.  “Our son and daughter were right.  The two of ya are quite handsome young men.”  She looked at her mate.  “Mearl, don’t ya agree?”  The merman, Mearl, nodded.

“Oh, yes.  They’re goin’ to be excellent fits.”

“Uh, fits?” Stan said cautiously.  Angie smiled in a disarming manner and put a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“They just mean the two of ya ‘ll fit in quite well with our fam’ly is all.  Ain’t many _merfolk_ what fit with our fam’ly, let alone _humans_.”

“…Okay,” Stan said begrudgingly. 

“Anyways, I’m Fidds ‘n Lute ‘n Angie’s Ma,” Mearl’s mate said sweetly.  “The name’s Sally.  My mate’s name is Mearl.  And we’re thrilled to have ya visitin’.”

“Those gills fit you boys all right?” Mearl asked.  Ford’s hands immediately went to his neck.  He subconsciously stroked the angular slits.

“Yes, they, uh, fit perfectly,” Stan said hesitantly.

“That’s good,” Sally said.  She smiled.  “Yer not uncomfortable at all?”

“No,” Ford and Stan said together.

“Actually, I find it quite fascinating,” Ford started.  Stan groaned.  “The plant your children provided to allow us to explore the ocean like mers seems to have accounted for everything.  Not only did we develop gills, but we don’t seem to be having any negative side effects from the immense water pressure.  We’re at the ocean floor, for goodness sakes!”  Ford tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “Hmm, I wonder if we’ll need to worry about getting the bends when we resurface.”

“Mers don’t get the bends.  You’ll be fine,” Lute said, waving a hand.

“We’re not merfolk,” Stan pointed out.  Lute blinked.

“Oh.  Uh, yeah, yer not.  But it still applies, since it was mers what…gave ya the plant,” Lute said weakly.  Stan squinted at him.

“That doesn’t seem like it makes sense, but whatever.  Not like this is my area of expertise,” Stan replied.  Lute smiled shakily.

“So, yer Stanford, correct?” Mearl said to Ford.

“How did you know?” Ford asked.  Mearl smiled.

“Our kidlets have told us an awful lot ‘bout the two of ya.  They can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout ‘them human twins’,” Mearl said.  Angie groaned and put her face in her hands.

“Pa!” Angie protested.  Stan grinned at her.

“You can’t stop talking about me, huh?”

“Oh!” Angie huffed, turning away. 

“Stanford, since yer so interested in how the plant works ‘n all, ya must be curious ‘bout our house,” Sally said.  Ford nodded eagerly.

“Very much so!”

“Come on, then, we’ll give ya a tour.”

 

Stan finished climbing up the side of the ship.  He collapsed onto the deck, exhausted.

“No wonder you MerGuckets are so damn buff.  You swim that much every day!” Stan said.  Fiddleford chuckled.

“Ah, well, merfolk are pretty strong naturally.  So’s we don’t need to worry ‘bout buildin’ up enough strength just to go to the grocery store,” Fiddleford said.

“Grocery store?” Ford asked, perking up.  Like Stan, he had been exhausted from the day and was leaning tiredly against a crate.  “Merfolk have grocery stores?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fiddleford said, perplexed.  “We can’t grow or collect _everything_ we need.”  Ford nodded.

“Fair enough.”  Ford yawned.  Fiddleford chuckled again.

“I’ll let the two of ya be.  Ya look pooped.”

“Yep.  Basically,” Stan grunted, still spread-eagled on the deck.  Fiddleford patted Ford’s shoulder and jumped overboard.  After a moment, Stan stood with a groan.  “Think I need to change clothes.  These smell like fish.”  He walked into the cabin.  Ford’s careful eye noticed something drip off Stan on his way. 

 _Water, perhaps?_   Ford crawled over.  _No._   Laying on the deck was a small collection of drab green scales.  Ford picked one up, frowning.  _Where did these come from?_

 

* * *

  

“So anyways, it was me up against this kraken,” Stan started.  He scratched his leg absentmindedly.

“What did you do?” the tourist asked eagerly.  Stan chuckled.

“Took it down.  A good old left hook’s the secret weakness of most monsters.”  The itching on his leg got worse.  He continued to scratch it.  “Except mermaids.  They’re something completely different.”

“Uh, Stan, are you all right?” Ford asked, taking a seat at the bar next to Stan.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Just telling this nice man how to defend himself at sea.”  Stan winked at the tourist.  “ _If_ he ever convinces that wife of his to let him go, am I right?”  The tourist laughed.  Ford frowned at Stan.

“Seriously, Stan, you’re scratching your leg so hard I’m surprised you haven’t torn off skin.”  Stan waved a hand airily.

“Just bug bites or a rash or something, probably.  I’ll be fi- _ouch_!”

“Told you you’d rip off your skin,” Ford said under his breath.  He ordered a beer from the bartender.  “Stop scratching!”

“Fine,” Stan groaned.  He coughed.  “Yeesh, why is it so hard to breathe in here all of a sudden?”

“Maybe your cigars are catching up to you?” Ford suggested.  Stan shook his head.

“That can’t be it.”  Stan wheezed.  Ford looked at him, concerned. 

“What’s going on with you today?”

“Beats me,” Stan muttered, reduced to breathing shallowly.  He looked down at his leg, to see if he could find where he had hurt himself.  His eyes widened.  “Fuck.”

“What?” Ford asked.  Stan drummed his fingers on the counter nervously.  He looked around.  The tourist was gone, probably scared off by Stan’s obsessive scratching.  They were basically alone.  Stan leaned closer to Ford.

“I didn’t rip off skin, I ripped off a scale,” Stan hissed in Ford’s ear.  Ford blinked.

“What?”  Ford looked down at Stan’s legs.  They were partially covered by dark maroon scales.  “Oh, no.”  Stan wheezed again.  “Gills?”

“Probably.  Gotta avoid taking deep breaths.”

“Or you could, you know, _go to the ocean_.”

“I’ll be fine.  So long as I stay hydrated,” Stan said.  He took a long drink from his beer.

“And beer is the way to go,” Ford said flatly.  Stan shrugged.  Ford reached out and grabbed Stan’s hand.  “You’re getting webbing between your fingers.”

“What?  Aw, shit,” Stan said.  Ford moved some of Stan’s long hair to the side, exposing his ears.

“Ears are turning webbed, too.”

“Goddammit.”  Stan downed the rest of his beer and wheezed one more time.

“Go to the fucking ocean!” Ford said. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Stan said, waving a webbed hand at him.  “Eh, actually, I think I have time for another beer.”

“Stanley, at this rate, you’ll have a full tail before you get out the door,” Ford hissed.  “As it is, you’ll have to run to the beach to get there on time.”  Stan took off his shirt.

“I’m already on my way,” Stan said, throwing his shirt at Ford.  Ford sighed.

“I didn’t tell you to disrobe in the bar.”

“Saving my pants for the pier, Sixer,” Stan said, shaking off his boots.  Ford shook his head.

“Just get out of here, already.”

 

Half an hour later, after paying the rather extensive bill Ford and Stan had built up, Ford walked onto the pier.  It was beginning to grow dark, and as such, Ford was alone.  He took a seat and dangled his feet in the water (after taking off his boots, of course).

“Stan?” Ford called hesitantly.  Ripples formed on the water.  Stan slowly surfaced.  “Feeling better?” Ford asked.  Stan sighed.

“Nope.  Mostly like shit.”

“What happened at the bar?”

“Remember that weird plant thing we used to breathe underwater?” Stan asked.  Ford nodded.  “Apparently it turns you into a mermaid after you’ve used it a lot.  Or something like that.  I dunno, one of those MerGucket guys explained it to me.”

“No, that’s right,” a voice said.  Stan and Ford looked over.  Fiddleford walked down the pier toward them.  He took a seat next to Ford.  “I…prob’ly should’ve told y’all that,” Fiddleford said, subdued. 

“Wait, what?” Ford said.  “ _I_ ate that plant.  Am I going to-”

“Eventually, yes,” Fiddleford said.  “Half the time, it hits you all at once, like Stan.  But it doesn’t look like that’s how it’ll go for you.  The rest of the time, well…”  Fiddleford trailed off.

“Fidds, what happens the rest of the time?” Ford asked. 

“The change goes slowly.  You grow scales, and fins, and gills, and everything else, but only gradually.  It can take upwards of nine months to make the full transformation.”

“Good God,” Ford said in a low tone.  “And that’s going to happen to me?”

“Yes,” Fiddleford confirmed.

“Ha!  Least I didn’t get the slow one,” Stan said.  He frowned.  “Kinda wish I had a chance to set my human life in order before it happened, though.”

“You can go on land still,” Fiddleford said.  “Ya just can’t live on it.”

“So I can still fake my death in some sort of Viking funeral style sailing accident?” Stan asked.  Fiddleford winced.

“I mean, I can’t stop ya, but I’d like to discourage ya from settin’ the boat ablaze.  Ford still needs to live on it fer a bit.  ‘Til his gills come in.”  Ford groaned loudly.  “Stanford, bein’ a merfolk ain’t a bad thing,” Fiddleford said.  He smiled.  “It’s actually quite wonderful.”

“Uh-huh.  And I’m supposed to believe the merperson that got me into this mess in the first place?” Ford snapped.  Fiddleford crossed his arms.

“Hey, it was my parents who decided to offer ya the plant, not me.  And we didn’t make ya take it.  You two chose to do that on yer own.”

“You still tricked us!” Ford said.  “You weren’t completely honest with us!  There was zero transparency.  All you said was that the plant would enable us to breathe underwater.”

“And as a merfolk, you’ll be able to,” Fiddleford said.  Ford stared at his friend.

“That’s a damn dirty trick,” Stan said.

“I warned ya not to trust merfolk.  Merfolk lie, cheat, trick and seduce their way through life,” Fiddleford said.  He smiled weakly.  “Welcome to the club.”

 

* * *

 

Ford scratched at the side of his neck.

“Itches like hell, don’t it?” Stan said idly as he looked over a piece of paper.  He grimaced.  “Yeesh.  Seems like a hassle to fake my death.  Maybe I should just disappear mysteriously.”  The two brothers were sitting on the pier at dawn, enjoying the solitude.  For Ford, it meant that he could take off the clothes covering his slowly growing number of scales.  For Stan, it meant he could go over human paperwork above water, but still in his merman form.  

“Yes, growing gills does itch.  And growing scales.  And growing fins and webbing.  All of it, really,” Ford said.  He looked over at Stan, whose maroon tail was only about halfway underwater.  “Are you sure you’re not going to suffocate?”

“Lute and Angie said that they bask on rocks all the time.  So long as some of this annoying thing is in the ocean, I’ll be fine,” Stan replied.  He splashed the water with his tail, frustrated.  “Damn inconvenience.”

“You want to talk about inconveniences?” Ford asked, now scratching his calves.  “Try being itchy constantly, on about 90% of your body.”  

“It can be difficult, the transition, that’s fer sure,” a soft voice said.  Stan and Ford froze.  Caught up in their conversation, they hadn’t heard footsteps.  Stan and Ford exchanged a nervous look.  The person sighed and took a seat between Stan and Ford.  Ford stared at her.

“Mrs. MerGucket?” he asked numbly.   

“Wait, you’re wearing clothes,” Stan said, frowning.  

“She’s got legs, and the thing you notice is clothes?” Ford said.

“Hey, you’ve seen how those merfolk are with clothes.  They don’t give a damn,” Stan said defensively.  “Lute and Angie would walk down Main Street buck naked if Fiddlesticks didn’t stop them.”  He turned his attention to Ma MerGucket.  “And what would you know about the transition?  Have you turned other people into merfolk?”  Ma MerGucket sighed and changed her position to be cross-legged.  

“I went through it myself, some thirty-odd years ago.”

“What?” Stan and Ford asked together.  She smiled.

“Yessir.  I was born human, grew up on land, the whole thing.  You’ll notice I’m one of the few merfolk ‘round these parts with a belly button.”

“So?” Stan asked.  

“Hon, merfolk hatch from eggs.  They don’t need umbilical cords.”

“…Hatch from eggs?” Stan said.  He made a disgusted expression.  “Sweet Moses.”

“You made the transition?” Ford asked.  Ma MerGucket nodded.  “But why?  Unless… were you tricked like us?”

“I weren’t tricked, darlin’.  No, I fell in love with a man from the sea.”  Ma MerGucket smiled fondly.  “It’s a story my guppies have heard ‘bout a million times.”

“We haven’t heard it,” Ford said.  Ma MerGucket raised an eyebrow.

“Ya want to?”

“Sure,” Stan said with a shrug.  “Not like we got anything better to do.”  He looked at Ford, who was absentmindedly scratching his arms.  “Except scratch all day long.”  Ford rolled his eyes.

“All right, then,” Ma MerGucket said.  She looked over at the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to peek over.  “I grew up in a small shoreside town.  Every mornin’, I would sneak out of my house to go swim in the ocean.  Nothin’ like swimmin’ while the sun’s still wakin’ up.”  She paused.  “But one day, the undertow caught me.  Pulled me right under.  I-I knew I weren’t goin’ to get back to the surface.  As I was tryin’ to make my peace with it, and relish the last moments before goin’ to them pearly gates, I felt someone grab a hold of me and pull me up.  The stranger took me to the shore and waited in the water, to make sure I was all right.  I asked him to come onto the beach, so’s I could thank him properly.  He said he couldn’t, so I walked back into the ocean.  That’s when I saw his tail.

“Now, I’d heard the stories from them old folk what lived in town.  The ones that said merfolk lived in a colony nearby.  On the ocean floor right next to the seaside cliffs.  I didn’t believe those stories.  But this stranger, this man who had just saved my life, why, there wasn’t any denyin’ what kind of folk he was.  He was a merman.  And the most handsome person I had ever seen.”

“Mr. MerGucket saved your life?” Ford asked.  Ma MerGucket nodded.  

“Yep.  ‘Fore he left, I got his name, and a promise that we would meet again.  The next mornin’, when I went to go swim, he was there at the beach, waitin’.  Our clandestine meetin’s became more regular, and ‘fore I knew it, we were in love.  Mearl, he told me ‘bout this plant I could eat.  It would let me join him.  I’d become a mermaid, and I could live with him at the bottom of the sea.”  She let out a deep sigh.  “I wanted that more ‘n anything in the world.  But when I told my parents that I was goin’ to leave the land and become a mermaid so’s I could be with a merman, they laughed in my face.”  Ma MerGucket smiled sadly.  “My parents, they didn’t believe me.  And anyways, they had plans fer me.  And those plans were marryin’ a socialite of my standin’, a man they would hand-pick.”

“You were a socialite?” Stan asked.  

“You bet.  The Turner name was big in my hometown.  Folks knew us.  Respected us.  Treated us like royalty, sometimes.  I didn’t like it.  And I didn’t like the life my parents wanted me to lead.  I ignored my folks and ate the plant, but I didn’t turn mer immediately.  I grew the scales, fins, gills, everything, bit by bit.  Like you, Stanford.  My parents realized their daughter was gradually becomin’ a mermaid, like she said she would.  They went to witch doctor after witch doctor, beggin’ fer someone to keep me human.  They found one what claimed she could reverse the change.  I heard my parents talkin’ ‘bout how they were goin’ to take me to see her against my will.  That was when it really hit me.  I couldn’t stay any longer.

“I gathered up some things I couldn’t bear to leave behind.  You’ve prob’ly seen ‘em in the house.  Gifts from fam’ly members that I actually liked.  And I wrote a note, sayin’ I was jumpin’ off the seaside cliffs, so I could go be with the man I loved.”

“Did you really jump?” Stan asked, now invested in the story.  Ma MerGucket grinned.

“Nah.  I walked down to the beach.  Mearl was there waitin’ fer me, like always.  I put my new gills to the test, and joined him in the merfolk colony he grew up in.  We eventually decided to find a new place and settled down where we live now.  And we had four clutches, but only six guppies.  Mearl was a bit disappointed there were so few guppies what hatched.  But after Lute and Angie’s clutch, we couldn’t do it no more.  The waitin’, the watchin’, the obsessiveness ya get when ya don’t know how things’ll work out.  It wears ya down.  It’s too exhaustin’.”  She looked at the twins and tilted her head in the same manner her youngest two children did.  “But I s’pose that’s somethin’ you’ll find out on yer own.”

“W-what?” Stan stammered.  Ma MerGucket smiled.  She patted his tail in a genial manner and stood.

“I got to get goin’.  Bein’ human ain’t as easy as it used to be.  And I’ve still got to find an apothecary to sell me what I need fer that lotion.”

“Lotion?” Ford asked.  Ma MerGucket nodded.

“I ‘member how gosh dang awful it was.  I’m workin’ on gettin’ ya somethin’ fer that itch of yours.”

“Really?”

“Yessir.  It’s the fault of me ‘n my fam’ly that yer itchin’ so much, anyways.”  She took a few steps down the pier.

“Mrs. MerGucket,” Stan called suddenly.  

“Yes, hon?” she said.

“Your family.  Did you ever talk to them after you left?” Stan asked.  Ma MerGucket paused.  After a moment, she spoke.

“No.  Haven’t seen ‘em since.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, I can’t have beer?” Stan demanded.  His tail beat angrily, stirring up currents.  Fiddleford sighed.

“It’s an alcohol made from grains.  Merfolk can’t digest grains,” Fiddleford replied.  He, Stan, and Ford were in the MerGucket kitchen, going over some of the ways the new mermen’s lives would change. 

“So I can’t have bread, either, then?” Stan asked.  Fiddleford shook his head.  “What the fuck, Fiddlesticks?”

“I’ve lived my whole life without eatin’ bread, and I’m fine,” Fiddleford said defensively.  Ford, who had finally grown his gills, but was still stuck with scale-covered legs, frowned.

“If merfolk can’t digest grains, then they can’t have whisky, either,” Ford said.  Stan stared at Ford.

“Holy Moses, Sixer.  You’re right.  Dammit, I can’t even get drunk anymore?”

“That’s not true,” Fiddleford put in.  “We actually have a fam’ly recipe fer rum.”

“Rum,” Stan repeated.  Fiddleford nodded.  “I don’t want rum, I want beer.”

“What’s beer?” Lute asked, swimming into the room. 

“Land folk kind of alcohol,” Fiddleford said.

“Ah, okay.  So yer tellin’ ‘em ‘bout the diet changes, then.”

“Yessir.  Ma started tellin’ ‘em, but had to leave fer somethin’.”  Fiddleford frowned at his younger brother.  “What do ya have there?”

“Oh, this?” Lute said, holding up the posterboard.  “Some charts ‘n visual aides.”

“For what?” Fiddleford asked warily.  Lute grinned.

“Why, fer explainin’ merfolk reproduction to the new mermen!” Lute said.  Fiddleford grimaced.  “I ain’t expectin’ ya to help.  Fer one thing, Harper already agreed.  Fer another, someone needs to run interference when Basstian gets here.”

“Gosh dangit,” Fiddleford muttered.  “I forgot he’d be comin’ by.”

“Wait, who’s Basstian, and why does Fiddleford need to run interference?” Ford asked. 

“Basstian’s one of our older brothers,” Lute replied.  “He don’t have a fond opinion of humans.  Given what all happened with Amy.”  Lute shook his head.  “But ya don’t need to know the fam’ly drama quite yet.”

“Dammit,” Stan muttered.  Another merman, similar in appearance to Fiddleford and Lute, entered the room.

“Ready, Lute?” the merman asked.  Lute nodded.

“Stan, Ford, this is Harper, the oldest son of Ma ‘n Pa.  He’ll be helpin’ with the explanation today,” Lute said.  Fiddleford smiled weakly at Stan and Ford.

“Good luck,” Fiddleford said.  He swam out of the room.  Lute set up the posterboard on the table.

“All right, here’s the thing with merfolk reproduction,” Lute said.  “It starts in the same manner human reproduction does.”

“So, fucking,” Stan said.  Ford elbowed him.

“Don’t be so crass,” Ford hissed.  He looked around.  “Is there anything I can use to take notes?”  Lute raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, sure,” Lute said.  He looked at Harper.  “You can keep on explainin’ while I get Stanford somethin’ fer notetakin’.”

“Got it,” Harper said with a nod.  He cleared his throat.  “Now, even though the act of conception is the same fer humans and merfolk, what happens after is different.  Uh, Stanford, ya don’t need to raise yer hand.”

“I had a question,” Ford said.  Stan groaned.  “In the diagram, the, um, sexual activity is between two humans.  How does it work for merfolk?”

“‘Sexual activity’?” Stan muttered.  Harper grinned.

“There’s a reason we can turn into a human form.  Conception between two merfolk happens when they’ve got legs.  Actually, merfolk can’t get a full human form ‘til puberty.  ‘Cause, evolutionarily speakin’, there’s no reason to.”  Ford nodded.

“Fascinating.”

“As I was sayin’, after conception, things work differently fer merfolk,” Harper continued.  He pointed to an image on the posterboard of a mermaid laying eggs.  “Somewhere’s between a month and two months after conception, the merfolk what is carryin’ the clutch lays the eggs in a special basket called a guppy basket.  That’s where the eggs will stay until they hatch, and where the guppies will sleep until they’re too big fer it.”  Lute swam into the room and handed Ford a notebook and pen.

“Ah, thank you,” Ford said.  He busily scrawled down what Harper had said so far.

“How does the mermaid know she’s pregnant?” Stan asked suddenly. 

“Well, sometimes, they don’t know they’re carryin’ a clutch until they lay it.  But most of the time, they can tell because they’re feelin’ weird,” Lute said.  “The average clutch size is anywhere from 40 to 55.”  Stan and Ford gaped.  “But that’s ‘cause there’s such a low hatchin’ rate,” Lute continued.  “Only ‘bout 20% of eggs in a clutch hatch.  And that’s with a merfolk-merfolk union.  In yer cases, clutches ‘ll be smaller.”

“What?” Stan asked. 

“Human-merfolk unions produce smaller clutches, ‘n smaller numbers of hatchin’ eggs,” Harper said.  “I’ve only got one clutchmate.  Basstian and Fidds don’t have clutchmates at all.  That’s rare fer merfolk.” 

“But we’re not human anymore,” Ford said.  Harper shrugged.  His tail swished idly.

“Fine, _former_ human-merfolk unions.”

“So, none of this is a seahorse type situation?” Stan asked.  Harper frowned.

“Seahorse?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ya mean with the male carryin’ the-” Lute started.  Stan nodded.  “No.  Our kind of merfolk don’t do that.”

“Thank god,” Stan muttered.  He paused.  “Wait, _our_ kind?  There are actual seahorse merfolk out there?”

“Hon, you’ve got a lot to learn,” Harper said.  Stan grimaced.

“Great.”

 

* * *

 

Ford looked over his shoulder.

“Great,” he muttered.  Once again, there was a small crowd of people following him, their eyes glazed over.  Ford rubbed his forehead.  “Damn mer abilities.  Stanley didn’t have this issue.”  As though summoned by his name, Stan appeared by Ford’s side.  Ford jumped.  “Stanley!”

“Did I scare you?” Stan asked with a grin. 

“Where did you come from?”

“The ocean.  Surprised you didn’t notice me earlier.  I’ve been tailin’ you for almost ten minutes.”  Stan glanced at the minor horde standing nearby, staring at Ford.  “Eh, I guess I did blend in pretty well with all these strangers who’ve decided they’re in love with you.”

“Can you please disperse them?” Ford asked desperately.  “This is driving me insane.”

“Sure, Sixer,” Stan replied.  He cleared his throat.  “All right, weirdos, go home!”  Ford’s ears, not fully transformed yet, couldn’t pick up on Stan’s underlying tone, which was the source of mer control over humans.  But something in Stan’s voice sent a shockwave through Ford’s jaw, which ricocheted up to his ears, making them ring.  Stan looked at Ford.  “Still can’t hear it, huh?”

“No.”  Ford scowled.  “If I could, then this wouldn’t be an issue.  I would be able to actually hear when I’m slipping into the ‘siren skill’.”

“I mean, I can hear when I’m doin’ it, but it still took me a while to control it,” Stan said with a shrug.  “The only bonus was that I could call for help right away.  Not only realize half an hour later that I’ve got a bunch of zombies following me.” 

“The taunting isn’t necessary.”

“I’m not taunting you.  And, Ford, I think it’s more of a blessing than anything else.”

“Why?”

“Well, the vocal command shit, you’re not slipping into it like I did,” Stan said, looking away.  “With me, it was like, one word I wasn’t doing it, but the next, I was.  Like when someone tries to get rid of their accent, sorta.”

“Is that not how it’s been happening with me?” Ford asked, confused.  He idly scratched one of his scale-covered legs. 

“No.  Not exactly,” Stan said slowly.  “Uh, closest thing would be…”  He trailed off.

“Stanley.”

“Okay, so, y’know how the MerGuckets keep joking that you’re going through puberty?”

“You’ve been making those jokes as well,” Ford pointed out.  Stan grinned.

“Why wouldn’t I?  It’s great material.”

“Stan.”

“Fine.  With your voice, it’s…sorta like another thing that happens during puberty,” Stan said.  Ford frowned.  “Also messes with your voice,” Stan added.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “Yeah.  That.”

“Wha- are you telling me that I have been having voice cracks?” Ford demanded.  Stan nodded.  “Sweet Moses.”

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed or anything.  We all think it’s funny.”

“Why wouldn’t I be embarrassed?” Ford burst out.  “I thought I was past this.”

“You had like two voice cracks the entire time we were teenagers,” Stan said firmly.  “My voice cracked more than the sidewalk outside our house.”  He shrugged.  “Seems to me like it’s just justice getting served.”

“Ugh,” Ford groaned.  “As if all of the physical aspects of the mer transition weren’t humiliating enough.  Now I sound like a teenager?”  A nervous look suddenly crossed Stan’s face.  “…I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.  But, uh, remember your fan club from earlier?  They’re gonna put down the autographed headshots and pick up the torches and pitchforks.”

“Shit,” Ford muttered.  “Can you-”

“Yeah, I’ll calm ‘em down.  Seriously though, Ford.  It’s really nothing to be worried about.  Aside from accidentally making people follow you around or wanna kill you, I guess.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Ford said sarcastically. 

“Okay, maybe this will.  Fiddlesticks doesn’t laugh about your voice cracks.”

“…He doesn’t?”

“Nope.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “He thinks they’re cute or charming or something like that.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”  Stan looked to the left.  “They’re back.  But no one brought any pitchforks.”

“I suppose courtesy is dead these days,” Ford said drily.  Stan chuckled.

“You’ll be too if you don’t get going.”

 

* * *

 

“Fucking finally!”  Lute and Angie looked up, startled by the sharp edge to Stan’s voice. 

“What’s up, Stan?” Lute asked.  He popped a seaweed bonbon in his mouth and then held the box out.  “Want one?”  Stan knocked the box of treats out of Lute’s hand.  “Rude!  Those were a gift!”

“From who?” Angie asked.

“Didn’t I tell ya?  The handsome sturgeon-lookin’ fish what lives down the way.”

“Ooh, nice.”

“Hey!” Stan barked.  Lute and Angie looked at him again.  “Took me forever to find someone, and now all ya can do is jabber on and on about handsome fish and- and candy?”

“Why were ya lookin’ fer someone?” Angie asked.

“Ford got kidnapped!” Stan yelled.  Angie’s jaw dropped.

“What?!  Who- how-”

“A group of mer hunters, the same ones that hired us ages ago.  Bill and his crew.  They saw Ford’s guppy scales when he was walkin’ down the pier.  They had him bound and gagged before I even realized somethin’ was wrong.”

“Ya worked fer mer hunters?” Lute demanded. 

“Not the important thing right now!” Stan said, agitated.  “We need to get goin’ before they kill my twin brother!” Stan said impatiently.  Angie looked at Lute.

“Full siren mode, ya think?” she asked.  Lute nodded.

“Seems like that should do the trick.”

“No, you guys don’t understand,” Stan said.  “Bill and his crew, they’re professionals.  They’ve got special earplugs that make them immune to a siren’s call.”  Lute rubbed his chin.

“Do they always wear the earplugs?”

“No, but since they’ve captured someone who’s turnin’ into a siren, I’d imagine they are right now!  Yer magical voices won’t be enough!”

“You underestimate a MerGucket’s vocal cords,” Angie said proudly.  “But at least to start, we’ll go songless.”  She tapped her chin.  “I think I might have an idea fer how to start us off.”

 

Stan treaded water, just under the surface, watching Angie walk down to pier.  As per usual, she had opted to wear the minimum amount of clothing to prevent her from getting arrested, and heads were turning. 

“How’s it goin’?” Lute whispered to him.

“Shh!” Stan hissed.  He pointed at the air bubbles that had escaped when Lute spoke.

“Oh.  Right.”  They watched Angie approach the man guarding Bill’s ship.  She bent over to speak to the guard, and Stan’s eyes widened.

 _A skirt and no underwear.  I mean, it’ll distract him, that’s for sure.  But damn._   Angie ran a hand through her hair as she spoke to the man, likely in a sultry voice.  The man’s eyes traveled a decent distance south of her face.  Angie lifted the man’s chin with one elegant finger and whispered something in his ear.  The man grinned.  Angie tapped the pier three times with her left foot.

“That’s the signal!” Stan said to Lute. “Let’s go!”  They surfaced under the pier.  Angie laughed jovially.  Two pairs of footsteps walked away from the boat.  After checking to see if the coast was clear, Lute and Stan turned into their human form and climbed onto the pier.  Stan resisted the urge to cover himself. 

 _Not used to lettin’ it all hang out in front of everyone and their aunt.  Even if there’s no one actually here._   Lute grabbed Stan’s hand.

“Angie’s still distractin’ the guy, come on!” Lute whispered.  They boarded the boat.  “Okay, you worked fer him, any clue where he might be keepin’ Ford?”

“Umm, I think he had a tank or somethin’ below deck,” Stan replied.  He snagged a pair of pants someone had left on top of a crate.  As he quickly put on the trousers, Lute stalked over to the cabin door.  “No, that’s not how ya get there!”  Lute stopped and crossed his arms.

“Then tell me how to get there!”  Stan forewent the zipper, deciding to be hasty.  He crouched down and lifted up a trapdoor. 

“This way, Gucket.”

“Ohhh,” Lute said.  Stan jumped down, closely followed by Lute. 

“S-Stan?” a weak voice said.  Stan spun around.  Ford was strung up in chains, looking dehydrated, bruised, and burned. 

“Holy Moses,” Stan whispered.  He and Lute quickly rushed over to free Ford from his bonds.  Once free, Ford collapsed onto Stan.  “Can ya walk, Sixer?”  Ford shook his head. 

“Even- even if I had the strength, my feet…”  Stan looked down.  Ford’s feet were now fins. 

“I’ve seen this sort of thing ‘fore,” Lute said quietly.  “Pushin’ a mer to beyond what their body can handle, it’ll force a transformation to their normal state.  Their mer state.  I s’pose this is the furthest mer ya can go right now, Stanford.”

“What did they do to ya?” Stan asked, wiping away a tear from Ford’s eye. 

“Electrocution.  Torture.  Taunting me, denying me water.  I- I-”

“Okay, that’s enough.  We’ll talk when we’re safe,” Stan said.  He froze, suddenly hearing a high-pitched tone.  “Is that-?”

“Angie’s warnin’ us that the feller is comin’ back, yup,” Lute said.  He hefted one of Ford’s arms around his shoulders and looked at Stan, his face pale with worry.  “How are we goin’ to get out of here?”  Stan shifted the rest of Ford’s weight onto Lute, making him stumble a bit.  He then marched over to the hull of the ship.

“Like I always say, when one door closes, choose a nearby wall and bash it in with brute force.”  Utilizing the enhanced strength merfolk had, Stan solidly punched through the hull, then kicked the opening until it was large enough for them to leave through.  Voices began to shout on the deck.  “What are ya waitin’ for?” Stan demanded.  “Get Ford outta here!”  Still carrying Ford, Lute jumped out of the ship, seamlessly turning to his mer form the second he was underwater.  Ignoring the water slowly filling the boat, Stan tugged off the borrowed pants.

_They’re not worth stealin’ anyways._

“Hey!”  Upon hearing a shout, Stan turned around.  Bill and his crew were standing in front of him, looking pissed.  Stan grinned.

“Later, William,” Stan said snarkily, flipping the mer hunters off, before jumping into the ocean.

 

* * *

 

Ford woke up coughing.  He fumbled around in the dark for his glasses, or a flashlight, but fell off his bunk.  As his coughs turned into wheezes, he heard a splash from the newly installed moon pool.  It was one of the mer-friendly renovations the _Stan O’War_ was getting. 

“Sixer?  You all right?  Thought I heard something,” Stan said, sticking his head into the cabin. 

“C-can’t breathe,” Ford choked out.

“Shit,” Stan whispered.  He pushed himself out of the moon pool and grabbed his twin.

“Ford, I’m gonna take you underwater, okay?” Stan said.  Ford nodded.  Stan dove back into the ocean, taking Ford with him.  He let go of Ford.  “Feelin’ better?”

“Yeah,” Ford said, rubbing his neck.  “Don’t know why my lungs weren’t working.  Never had that problem before.” 

“Uh, Ford, you’re shedding,” Stan said.  Ford frowned.

“What?”

“On your neck.  The scales.  You’re rubbin’ ‘em off.” Stan said.  He peered at Ford’s neck.  “Huh.  Maybe you’re finally losin’ your guppy scales.  You’ve still got some scales, but they aren’t green.”

“Wait, really?”  Ford rubbed one of his scale-covered calves.  The green guppy scales flaked off, revealing gold ones underneath.  He looked at Stan eagerly.  “Maybe I’m finally almost done with this transitional state!”

“You think your tail’s gonna come in?  Should probably lose the pants, then,” Stan said.  He looked away as Ford undressed.  “How long do you think it takes?”

“I don’t-” Ford started.  He winced, feeling electric shocks prickling down his legs.  The stinging became stronger, until he closed his eyes from the pain.  When he opened his eyes again, Stan was staring at him.

“Do all mer twins match?” Stan said.  Ford looked down.  His eyes widened.  Instead of legs, he had a glamorous golden tail, with maroon fins that were the same color as Stan’s scales.

“We can ask the MerGuckets that,” Ford said shakily, startled by his full transformation. 

“You all right?” Stan asked him.  Ford nodded.

“Yes, just…shaken a bit, I suppose.  And relieved.  Holy Moses, am I relieved.”  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, you’re finally done with mer puberty.  It’s about time!”

“I’d say so.  Three months of being stuck in a transitional stage?  Ridiculous.  But it’s over.”

“Hell yeah, it is,” Stan said, elbowing Ford genially.  “Wanna go show off to the MerGuckets?  Let ‘em see their handiwork?”

“Won’t they be asleep?”

“They tricked ya into lookin’ like the missin’ link between fish and humans.  I think they can handle bein’ woken up in the middle of the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU has been around for a while, so there's actually some designs for the various merfolk, created by the amazing agent-jaselin on Tumblr.
> 
> Fiddleford, Lute, and Angie's designs are here: http://agent-jaselin.tumblr.com/post/162146806565/mermaid-designs-for-characters-in-the-mergucket  
> Ma and Pa MerGucket's designs are here: http://agent-jaselin.tumblr.com/post/162170376370/next-set-of-merguckets-ma-sally-and-pa-merle  
> Stan and Ford's designs are here: http://agent-jaselin.tumblr.com/post/162221911115/mermaid-stan-twins-each-of-them-have-the-sort-of
> 
> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


	3. Mates

“And that’s how ya bake underwater,” Ma MerGucket finished.  Ford nodded.

“Fascinating.”

“Isn’t it,” Ma MerGucket said idly.  She smiled.  “Gosh, Stanford, yer so interested in everything we tell ya ‘bout mer culture or society.”

“Can you blame me?  This world is markedly different from the one I grew up in.”

“Oh, I know that feelin’, sweetie.  ‘Member, I used to be human, too.”

“That’s right.  How did you learn all of this?” Ford asked.

“Merle’s mother taught me.  So I s’pose this is returnin’ the favor,” Ma MerGucket remarked.  Stan swam into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.  “Mornin’, Stanley.”  Stan grunted.  “We’ve got some breakfast foods that should be ready any minute.”

“Great,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Sally, I never got around to asking you, but where’s the coffee?”

“Stan, we’ve been living with the MerGuckets for two weeks now,” Ford said.  “You’ve been living with them for months.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.  Forgot to ask.”

“We don’t have any, darlin’,” Ma MerGucket said apologetically.

“What?  Why not?” Stan complained. 

“We can’t really serve or prepare much liquids down here.  It’s only a ten minute swim to shore, though, if’n ya want some land folk beverages like coffee.”

“Don’t you guys have rum?”

“Yes, but we drink it above water, and prepare it above water as well.”

“Where do you prepare it?” Ford asked.  Ma MerGucket beamed.

“Why, in this cave what’s been in Merle’s fam’ly fer generations!  It’s partially filled with water all the time, and durin’ low tide has plenty of tide pools fer guppies to splash in while their parents do land things.”

“Or we could get drunk on the ship,” Stan said.  “That’s where you’re _supposed_ to get drunk, after all.”  Ma MerGucket rolled her eyes, but in a good-natured way.

“I’m goin’ to go get my kidlets up, so’s they can have some breakfast once it’s finished,” she said.  She patted Ford on the shoulder.  “Stay here to watch the food please, hon.”

“Of course,” Ford replied.  Ma MerGucket swam out of the kitchen.  Ford took a seat at the table.  After a moment, Stan joined him.

“God, mer life is weird,” Stan groaned, dropping his head to the table.  He let out a long sigh.  “No coffee?  What kinda hellhole is this?”

“Don’t insult the MerGuckets’ house, they’ve been kind enough to let us stay,” Ford chided.  Stan stared at him.

“Yeah, after tricking us into becoming mermen,” Stan pointed out.  “It’s the _least_ they could do.”

“You might have a point.”

“Anyways, you drink more coffee than I do!  Why aren’t you all upset about it?”

“Because I asked about it the very first day.”

“Of course you did,” Stan grumbled.  He propped his elbows on the table and nestled his head in his hands.  “…I miss the land.”

“It’s not that far; there’s no reason to miss it.”

“Let me rephrase that.  I miss being human.  Eating what I want to without feeling like I’ll die.  Being able to walk around without getting worried someone will kidnap me.  At least, kidnap me because I’m mer, not because I’ve got debts or whatever.  Eh, that’s one good thing about being mer.  Don’t have to worry about the loan sharks anymore.”

“True.  But you do have to worry about _normal_ sharks,” Ford pointed out.  Stan punched his twin playfully.  “I agree, though.  I miss being human sometimes as well.”  Ford sighed.  “Coffee is the big thing.  But I doubt I’ll be able to do research on land anomalies now.”

“Least there’s plenty of weird magic things in the ocean,” Stan offered.

“There’s also plenty of sunken ships with treasure,” Ford said.

“Oh, yeah.  The MerGuckets said they were gonna show us some of ‘em.  They better.  Some nice gold would help my hurt feelings.”  A moment passed.  “I mean, this whole thing isn’t as bad as it could be, I guess.”

“No.  It could be far worse.”

“Still sucks that we got tricked into it.”

“No arguments here.”

 

* * *

 

“Think we’re going the right way?” Stan asked.  He poked a fish that passed close to his face.  The fish darted away. 

“Fiddleford said to swim east until we reach Starfish Rock, and then go south.  The market should be right on our path, then,” Ford replied.

“This is what we get for shackin’ up in a house that’s two miles from the colony,” Stan grumbled.  He sighed.  “What are we supposed to get, again?”

“Here’s the grocery list,” Ford said, handing him a folded piece of paper.  “I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.  We’ve only been swimming for a short while.  And it was handed to me a split second before we were both shoved out the door.”

“Yeah, why did they kick us out so rudely?” Stan wondered.  “That’s not like ‘em.”

“I think they were busy with something mer-related.”

“Topic secret mer mission?”

“Precisely.”

“Man, we’re mer now.  Why can’t we be a part of whatever they’re doin’?”  Stan sighed.  “Whatever.  Let’s see what we’re supposed to get.”  He unfolded the piece of paper and scanned it.  “Hmm.  Tilapia…minnows…purple seaweed…sea urchins…”  Stan trailed off, catching a small note at the end of the list.

_I know you’re still working on reading Mermish, so I wrote the list in English this time.  Hope it doesn’t sound too weird!  -Angie_

There was a small doodled heart right after Angie’s excitable signature.  Unbidden, a small smile began to creep its way across Stan’s face.

“What is it?” Ford asked, breaking Stan from his reverie.

“Uh, nothin’.”

“No, that’s not nothing.  What’s on that list to make you grin like the cat that got the canary?” Ford asked, grabbing the list from him.  Stan pointedly looked in the opposite direction, at a school of silver-colored fish.  “Angie signed this.”

“So?”

“And she drew a tiny heart after her name.”

“So?” Stan grumbled.

“I knew you liked her.”

“Where’d you hear that from?”

“Lute.”

“Figures.”

“But I didn’t think you were head over heels for her!” Ford said gleefully.  Stan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right.  A smile doesn’t mean I love her or whatever.  And we don’t even have heels anymore, Sixer.”

“Hmm, that’s true.  I’ve heard the MerGuckets say something else, actually.  Face over fins, I think.”  Ford grinned devilishly.  “You’re face over fins for Angie MerGucket.”

“Stanford, cut it out!” Stan barked. 

“Your face is redder than your scales.”

“Sixer!”  Stan was so distracted by his taunting twin that he didn’t see the large boulder until he swam into it.  “ _Oof_!”

“Well done, Stanley, you found Starfish Rock!” Ford said.  Stan peeled himself off the rock. 

“How do you know this is the right rock?” Stan asked.

“It’s completely coated in starfish,” Ford replied.  He frowned.  “You, um, you’ve got a few on your face.”

“Great,” Stan mumbled, peeling the starfish off him with an audible sucking sound.  “Which way’s south?”

“Hmm.”  Ford took out his compass.  Stan looked around.

“Actually, never mind.  It’s this way.”  Stan set off.  Ford swan after him.

“How can you tell?”

“‘Cause you can see the market from here,” Stan replied.  It took about five minutes for them to arrive, but when they did, a small hush fell near them.  Stan frowned.  “What?” he asked a mermaid floating nearby, carrying a guppy in a sling.  The mermaid held her guppy closer.

“So, you’re the former humans,” she said shortly.

“How did you-” Ford started.  The mermaid scoffed.

“Please, not only do you still wear clothes like you’re trying to pretend you aren’t mer, but both you have those…things that humans have.  Where human guppies attach to the person carrying them.”  The mermaid wrinkled her nose.  “Disgusting.”

“Hey, _humans_ are disgusting?” Stan shot back.  “What about you mers, and this whole ‘laying eggs’ thing?  _That’s_ gross.”  The mermaid huffed and swam away.  Ford cleared his throat.

“Stan, maybe don’t insult the other people shopping here.  We’re mer, we need to be able to get along with them.”

“…Fine,” Stan grumbled.  Ford looked around.  The mers manning the stalls all had distinctly stony expressions.

“And you pissed off all the shopkeepers, too, so there’s no way we’ll get a good deal,” Ford groaned.  Stan let out a small chuckle. 

“You doubt me, Sixer?  I’m insulted.  Trust me, we’re gonna get back to the MerGuckets’ with more money than when we left!”

“The currency is shells.  That’s not a difficult thing to do.  Literally all we’d need to do is find more shells.”

“God, learn when to leave it, Ford.”

 

* * *

 

“So, uh, this is the super secret place you wanted to show me, huh?” Stan asked.  He and Angie were beached on the shore of a small, secluded lagoon.  Angie flicked her tail excitedy.

“Yeah!  This lil place is ‘bout my favorite one to go to.  My secret spot.  Ain’t it great?” she asked.  Stan shrugged and picked up a tiny, rounded stone from the pebbly beach.

“I mean, I guess.  But I’ve been here before,” he said, idly flicking the pebble away.  It skipped on the teal water. 

“What?  But I thought ya haven’t left the colony since ya moved in,” Angie said.  She scooched closer to him, her scales making a rasping sound against the ground. 

“It was when I was human,” Stan explained.

“Fidds never mentioned y’all comin’ here.”  Angie sounded put out.

“This was before we hired him.  Back when Ford and I were trying to save up the money to buy the Stan O’War.  We were scopin’ out the area for-”  Stan stopped.  His blood ran cold.

“For what?” Angie asked. 

 _For merfolk hunters._   But Stan wasn’t going to tell Angie that.  Angie cocked her head with interest. 

“For what?” she repeated.

“…You don’t wanna know,” Stan said shiftily, looking away.  Angie gaped.

“Ya can’t just say that and expect me to drop it!  Come on, what were ya scopin’ the lagoon out for?” she wheedled.  Stan shook his head.  His heart stopped as his ears picked up on the sound of pebbles clinking against each other, a few yards away.

“Okay, we have to go,” he said abruptly, grabbing Angie’s hand.  She pulled her hand out of his grasp.

“What is _with_ ya today?” she asked.

“Seriously, Angie, it isn’t safe here,” Stan hissed. 

“No, I’ve been comin’ here since I was a guppy.  Granted, I ain’t been out here in a bit but-”  Angie was cut off by a shadowy figure wrapping an arm around her torso and clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Shit!”  Stan dove back into the water, narrowly avoiding a second person grabbing him.  He surfaced cautiously.  Angie was struggling against her captors, the spines on her fins instinctively raised.  There were already obvious wounds on the men’s arms from her spines.  But she wasn’t talking to the men, convincing them to let her go.  She had been gagged.

 _She can’t sing her way outta it._   Stan’s heart sunk.  He had been hoping she might be able to do that.  _I’ve never tried to pull that trick with people who are actively tryin’ to kill me.  But I don’t have a choice._ Stan cleared his throat. 

“Hey, fellas,” he started hesitantly, finding the specific tremor in his voice he needed to convince people to do what he wanted.  “Why don’tchya let the nice lady go?”  The men stared at him dumbly.  “Seriously.  You don’t need to have her captive or whatever.  She’s fine livin’ in the ocean.  You can trust me.”  Slowly, the men lowered Angie to the ground.  One of them removed the gag from her mouth.  Angie glared at the men.

“Put me back in the water,” she snarled.  Even though, as a mer, Stan was immune to a siren’s vocal commands, he shuddered from the power in her voice.  The men moved quickly, carefully sliding her into the bright waters of the lagoon.  “Now, leave.  Never come back.  Ever!”  Angie’s voice echoed against the water.  There was almost a tangible wave of power that washed over everyone.  The men ran out of the lagoon.  Angie whipped her head around to face Stan.  “Merfolk hunters?” she whispered, devastated. 

“I said you wouldn’t wanna know.”  Angie looked away.  “I told you Ford and I used to work for mer hunters, back when we were human.”

“I know, I just- I'm havin' some issues comin' to terms with it.  How- how could ya?  Do you know what those people do?  They-they tear families apart, steal eggs, kill merfolk and display our scales and fins in their dwellin’s like- like trophies.”  Angie’s voice broke.  “Merfolk hunters almost got my big brother.”

“What?”

“Basstian.  He got tricked.  He fell in love with a human woman, but it was all a ploy fer- fer her to get a chance to kill and skin him.”

“Angie, I- I had no idea,” Stan said, moving toward her.  He wrapped a hesitant arm around her shoulders.  “Look, when Ford and I scoped the area out, we- we really needed the money.  We needed to get out of our house.  And I swear, I had _no clue_ what they did to merfolk.”  Angie shook her head.

“Would it have made a difference?  Would ya have turned it down?”  She stared at him.  “Be honest.”

“Ford would have.  I- I wouldn’t,” Stan confessed.  Angie bit her lip. 

“At least yer honest,” she said in a choked voice.

“Angie, I’m- was Basstian really-”

“Yes.  That’s why he don’t trust ya.  Or Ford.  He don’t think it’s right fer merfolk to offer the plant to humans they love.”

“…Love?” Stan asked.  Angie froze.  “You’re not talkin’ ‘bout my situation.  Are you?”  After a very long pause, she spoke.

“M-Ma said she wanted to offer y’all the plant fer a few reasons.  One of ‘em bein’ the look in Fidds’ eyes and- and my eyes when we talked ‘bout the two of ya.  She ‘membered the heartbreak she almost went through, and didn’t want that fer us.”

“You- you’re-” Stan stammered.  Angie nodded.  She leaned her head against him. 

“Whatever, doesn’t matter.  You clearly don’t feel the same way, so,” she muttered.  Stan swallowed.  He cupped her chin and tilted her face towards him. 

“What makes ya think that?” he asked quietly.  Angie blinked at him, her bright blue eyes catching light bouncing off the water.  Stan leaned down. 

His lips met hers.

 

* * *

 

“Here it is!” Angie said gleefully.  She parked herself on a large boulder.  

“What, was it is race or somethin’ to get here fastest?” Stan asked, annoyed, finally catching up to her.

“Force of habit.  Lute’s here, so I have to get to the destination first.”  Angie grinned at Lute, who just arrived at the boulder.  “Beat ya, bro.”

“We ain’t guppies no more.”

“Uh huh.  Sounds like yer bitter,” Angie said, poking Lute’s shoulder.  He glowered at her.  Ford slowly swam up to join the rest of the group.

“Why are we here, again?” Ford asked.  Angie sighed.

“Didn’t ya listen, Stanford?”

“No one explained it to me.  Stan grabbed my hand and told me we were leaving, and that Fiddleford was, and I quote, ‘too chicken to join us’.”  Angie nodded, her tail swishing idly.

“Yeah, Fidds thinks the wreck is haunted.  But I don’t know ‘bout that.  I just know that it’s prob’ly the coolest thing within a hundred yards of the colony.”

“We’re here ‘cause Angie and I heard ya and Stan talkin’ yesterday,” Lute replied.

“…What did you hear?” Ford asked warily.

“Somethin’ ‘bout how ya got the babes, but ya didn’t get the treasure yet,” Angie said airily.  She winked at Stan.  “I don’t know if ya _got_ me quite yet there, Stanley.”

“Oh, I’ve got you,” Stan said.  Angie grinned. 

“But anyways,” Lute intervened, “supposedly, there’s treasure in the wreck.”

“‘Supposedly’?” Ford asked.

“No one’s gotten through the whole thing yet.  They always get too scared,” Angie said.

“How long has it been there?” Stan asked.

“It sank when ‘round Violynn and Harper hatched, right?” Angie asked Lute.  Lute nodded.

“Yep.  So, a bit over thirty years, maybe?”

“And you’re sure it’s got treasure in it?” Stan asked.

“It was a merchant ship in charge of transportin’ valuables,” Angie said.  Stan’s eyes widened.

“Really?”  Angie shrugged.

“Nah, I don’t know what kind of ship it was.  But there’s got to be _somethin’_ inside it.  So.  Are ya up fer it?”

“Duh,” Stan scoffed. 

 

“So, um, how are we supposed to see in the dark down here?” Ford asked.  He swam into a wall, again.  “Damn.” 

“What, ya didn’t get the mer ability to see in the dark?” Lute said.

“Is that a thing?” Ford asked.

“Pfft.  Nah.  Just foolin’ with ya.  Here.”  There was some shuffling noises, then a small light appeared.  It glowed dimly at first, but rapidly grew brighter, until the merfolk could see their surroundings and each other.

“What is that?” Ford asked curiously, swimming closer to the sphere Lute was holding.

“Just a ball full of dinoflagellates,” Lute said.  “Got to tap ‘em ‘fore they turn on, though.”

“Wait, they’re trained to activate their bioluminescence on command?”

“No,” Angie said.  “Can’t train phytoplankton.  They’re bred fer this.”  She rolled her eyes.  “What, did ya think all we grew on the farm was seaweed and coral?”

“Fascinating,” Ford murmured.

“Not really,” Stan said.

“Ford, we ain’t here to look at somethin’ we got in the house,” Lute said.

“You have these at the house?!”

“Duh, we can’t see in the dark!”

“Let’s just keep movin’, okay?” Angie said, already swimming forward. 

“Sounds good to me,” Stan said.  He followed her. 

After about half an hour of nothing more interesting than a sleeping blacktip reef shark (which Ford had to be pulled away from), they finally came to a closed door.  Stan inspected the hinges and doorknob carefully. 

“Doesn’t look like this has been opened in a while.”

“Maybe we’ve finally gotten further than other merfolk have,” Lute suggested. 

“Maybe.”  Stan jiggled the doorknob.  “It’s locked.  Gimme a sec.”  He ran his hands through his hair, dislodging small crustaceans.

“How long has it been since ya combed yer hair?” Angie asked, aghast.  Stan shrugged, still feeling his scalp.

“Ha!  Here it is.”  Stan pulled a bobby pin out of his hair.

“Why do you have a bobby pin in your hair?” Ford asked.

“‘Cause I can’t keep it in my pockets anymore,” Stan replied, already picking the lock.  Angie and Lute watched him with interest.  “Annnnnnd…there.  ‘Bout time.  Must be losin’ my touch.”  He swung open the door.  “After you, Lute.”  Lute stayed back.

“Why do I have to go first?”

“You’ve got the science flashlight,” Stan said. 

“Here,” Angie said, taking the glowing sphere from Lute.  “I’ll go first, since yer scared, Mr. Lures-Sailors-To-Their-Deaths.”  She swam into the room, closely followed by Ford and Stan.  “Huh.”  They were in what appeared to be a storage room, filled with crates and barrels.  Angie set the sphere on the floor in the center of the room, then swam over to the barrels.  She tapped one curiously.  “Wonder what’s in here.”

“Lemme see,” Stan said, joining her.  He rolled the barrel over, revealing letters stamped on the wood.  “Maple syrup?”

“…What’s maple syrup?” Lute asked.

“Humans put it on breakfast food,” Ford replied.  “Pancakes, waffles, sausage.  And some use it to make candy.”  He registered the confused looks on Angie and Lute’s faces.  “Pancakes, waffles, and sausage are all hazardous to merfolk.”

“So’s we can’t do anything with all this?” Angie said.  Ford frowned.

“Well, maple syrup is essentially sucrose.  Which I don’t think fits under the definition of things merfolk can’t digest.”

“I’ll take one home, ask Ma ‘bout it,” Lute said.  He joined Angie and Stan by the barrels and began to move them around, looking for a smaller one.  Ford drifted over to one of the crates. 

“What’s in those?” Stan asked.  Ford wiped a thin layer of algae off. 

“…Children’s toys.  What kind of ship was this?”

“Canadian pediatrician’s?” Stan suggested, swimming over to Ford.  He looked the crate over, before punching a hole through it.  “God, I love this whole mer superstrength thing.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty snazzy,” Lute said idly, still looking through the barrels of maple syrup.  Stan reached inside the crate and pulled out a brightly colored ball.

“Catch!” Stan said.  He lobbed the ball at Lute, who ducked.  The ball bounced off the wall and landed on the floor, bumping against one of Angie’s fins.  Angie cocked her head at the ball.

“What is that?”

“Kid’s toy.  Didn’t ya hear?” Stan said, continuing to dig through the crate.  “Man, just a buncha balls in here.  Heh.”  Ford rolled his eyes.

“Mature, Stan.”

“Wanna take this home, too?” Stan asked Lute.  Lute, who had finally picked out a barrel, shrugged.

“Whatever sinks yer ship.”

“I think so,” Angie said abruptly.  She joined Stan and Ford and peered at the crate’s contents.  “There’s enough in there fer ‘bout two clutches, I’d say.  Never know when it might come in handy.”  Stan stared at her.

“When you say you want it, you don’t mean for, like, _you_ , right?” Stan said cautiously.  Angie rolled her eyes.

“No, these are guppy toys, Stan.  I wouldn’t play with ‘em.”

“Okay, when you say you want it, you don’t mean for _your_ guppies, right?” Stan amended.

“I don’t _have_ any guppies.  Yet.”  Angie picked up the crate.  “Hmm.  Ain’t too heavy, but it’s kind of bulky.”

“Gucket, talk to me,” Stan said, thoroughly worried now.

“Oh, fishtails, calm down, Stan,” Angie said.  “We ain’t even mated.”

“Yeah, but you still haven’t answered the question,” Stan said.  While Stan and Angie bickered (and Lute watched, amused), Ford swam over to the back wall of the room.  One of the wooden panels was different from the rest.  Carefully, Ford pried the panel off, revealing a passageway.

“Maybe leave the crate and barrel here,” Ford said slowly.  The others looked over at him.  “We haven’t finished exploring.”

 

* * *

 

The MerGucket household was dark and silent.  At least, as silent as it ever got.  Gentle currents kicked up a small _woosh_ , causing the potted anemones by the front door to sway idly.  Lute smiled and stroked the pink one.  He said something to it in Mermish.  The anemone’s fronds curled up. 

“Psst,” Stan hissed at Lute.  Lute looked over.  “We gotta be quiet,” Stan whispered.  “We’re sneakin’ out.”  Lute nodded.  The two mermen froze as a voice spoke from behind them.

“…Stanley?  Lute?” Angie said sleepily.  Stan and Lute turned around reluctantly.  Angie frowned at them.  “What are ya doin’?”

“Just goin’ for a walk,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie crossed her arms.  “Uh, I mean swim.”

“It’s nighttime.  Nasty creatures come out durin’ the night,” Angie said.

“That’s why we’re bringin’ knives ‘n things,” Lute said brightly, showing her the bag slung over his shoulder.  Angie narrowed her eyes.  “We’ll be fine.”

“Quit lyin’ to me,” Angie said shortly.  “If’n ya were really goin’ out fer a nighttime swim, ya wouldn’t be so secretive ‘bout it.  And you’d prob’ly have asked Harper to come along, since he’s got the best night vision.”

“We’ve got flashlights,” Stan said.  He groaned silently, realizing his mistake.

“Ya mean the electrical thing?  The one what don’t work underwater?” Angie said.  She swam closer to them.  “What’s really goin’ on?  Why won’t ya just tell me?”

“We’re gonna go after Bill and his crew, all right?” Stan finally snapped.  Angie’s jaw dropped.

“What?!”

“Okay, not the whole crew,” Stan amended.  “Lute’s gonna do the siren thing and separate Bill, then we’re gonna take him down.  Without Bill, the crew doesn’t know what to do.”

“Kill the head, kill the sea snake,” Lute added with a nod.

“I- that’s bonkers!” Angie said fiercely.

“No, it’s not.  Bill needs to be taken down, we’ve got a plan, _and_ we’ve got a backup plan if things go south,” Stan said.

“What’s yer backup plan?”

“Swim like hell.”

“Goodness!”  Angie clapped a hand to her forehead.  “This- what in the Lord’s great blue oceans makes ya think this is a good idea?  Who even came up with it?”

“Stan,” Lute said.  Angie sighed.

“Of course he did.  Stan, we don’t go after mer hunters.”

“Maybe _you_ don’t,” Stan retorted.  Angie shook her head.

“No, Stan, ya- ya don’t understand.  When mer hunters first started bein’ a big problem fer our people, we tried fightin’ back.  It never worked out.  It was too high a risk fer too lil a reward.  Mer hunters, they- they know our weaknesses, they know our strengths, and they know how to not be affected by a siren’s call!  Goin’ after a mer hunter is a suicide mission.”

“You go after mer hunters all the time,” Stan pointed out.

“When they come into our waters.  We don’t fight ‘em on their turf.  It’s not worth it.”

“Well, that’s what you think,” Stan said after a moment.  A pained look settled on Angie’s face.  “…What?”

“Lute ‘n I lost an auntie to a mer hunter.  The same one what tried to capture Basstian, y’know, my brother what hates ya.”

“Yes, I remember him,” Stan muttered.  He shuddered, remembering the cold venom he’d seen in Basstian MerGucket’s eyes when they met. 

“One of our aunties got upset, ‘cause Basstian was her favorite.  So she went after that mer hunter, and- and-”  Angie broke off.  She bit her lip.

“You never saw her again?” Stan asked quietly. 

“No, we saw her,” Lute said in a low tone.  “Bein’ sold at a fish market.”  A chill ran down Stan’s spine.  Lute swallowed.  “Maybe…maybe this ain’t the best idea after all.”

“No, Lute, we have to do this,” Stan said firmly.  He took a deep breath.  “Bill tortured Ford.  Hell, if we had gotten there an hour later, Ford might be dead.  Bill’s not gonna get away with it.”  Stan stared at Angie.  “I don’t care that it’s not what merfolk do.  It’s what I do.  I don’t let assholes hurt my brother without hurtin’ them back.”

“Ford’s all right, Stan,” Angie said softly.  “He fully recovered almost a whole year ago.”

“Yeah, but Ford shouldn’t have had to go through the shit in the first place,” Stan snapped.  “ _That’s_ the point, Ang.”  Angie cocked her head.

“Did ya just call me Ang?”

“…Do you not like bein’ called that?”

“No, it- it’s fine,” Angie mumbled, ducking her head.  “Never been called that ‘fore.”

“Stan, we’d better get goin’,” Lute said.  “Otherwise other folk ‘ll see us.  Harper’s a sleepswimmer, but he’s also a light sleeper.  If he bumps into somethin’ ‘n wakes up, he’ll raise the alarm.  Ma ‘n Pa won’t let us go.”  Stan nodded.  He opened the front door.  Lute smiled confidently at Angie.  “Wish us luck, lil sis!”  Angie bolted forward, holding Stan in a tight embrace.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.  “I don’t want either of ya to get hurt.”  Stan wrapped his arms around her in return.

“I’ve gotta do this.”

“Now?”

“Bill’s difficult to track,” Stan said.  “Ever since Ford finished turnin’ mer, I’ve been trying to find him.  Who knows how long it’ll take to find him again?”  Angie buried her head in Stan’s chest.  Lute looked away from the couple.  “I love you,” Stan said impulsively.  Angie froze.

“You’ve never said that before,” she said.

“…Might as well say it now,” Stan said after a moment.  “If- if things go south and our backup plan doesn’t pan out.”  Angie tightened her grip on him.  “You’re gonna have to let me go at some point, Ang.”

“Please come back,” Angie whispered, releasing him from the embrace.

“Bare minimum, Lute comes back without me,” Stan said.  “I won’t let him get hurt.”  Angie’s expression grew sorrowful.  “But the plan is that we both come back.”

“I’ll keep him safe, sis,” Lute said.  Angie smiled weakly. 

“See?  We’ve got this under control,” Stan said, feigning confidence.  Angie rubbed her eyes.

“Go ‘fore I change my mind and wake the whole house up just so’s ya can’t leave,” she mumbled.  Stan kissed her on the top of her head.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he told her.  Angie nodded.  Stan turned to Lute.  “Let’s get outta here.”

 

* * *

 

Stan followed Angie further into the extensive coral reef on the boundary of the MerGuckets’ property. 

“Careful of the staghorn.  It’s sharp this time of year,” Angie said idly.  She was navigating the coral with ease, zipping through without so much as brushing up against anything.  It was seemingly effortless for her, like she was on autopilot.

 _It’s like how I memorized the way to the kitchen as a kid, so I could get something in the middle of the night without turning on any lights._   Distracted by comparing his human childhood to mer life, Stan didn’t do as Angie had told him.  His arm grazed against a protruding clump of staghorn coral.  He hissed in pain and immediately clamped his arm over the deep scratch.  Angie turned around.

“Oh, no,” she said, swimming back to him.  Despite his attempts to stem the bleeding, blood trickled through his fingers, forming puffs of red-tinted water.  “I _told_ ya to be careful of the staghorn,” Angie chided.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered.  “Sue me, there’s about a million different kinds of coral here, and it’s all packed tighter ‘n sardines.”  Angie frowned, puzzled.

“Sardines?  What’s that?” she asked.  Stan stared at her.

“It’s…a kind of fish.  You really don’t know what a sardine is?  I mean, _you’re_ part fish.”

“I ain’t part anything,” Angie retorted, digging around in the satchel she had brought along.  “I’m 100% mer.  That’s all mammal, darlin’.”  She gave him a small peck on the cheek.  “But humans have some mighty strange names fer things.  Might just be a translational error.  What’s the scientific name?”

“Who do you think I am?” Stan asked.  “Do I _look_ like a person who knows scientific names of fish?”

“Mm.  Maybe.”  Angie pulled a roll of bleached fibrous algae out of her bag.  “Now, hold still so’s I can wrap this.”  Stan let go of his wounded arm.  Blood billowed in red clouds from the scratch.  Angie skillfully wrapped the roll of algae around Stan’s wound, sealing it up in under a minute.  She put the remainder of the roll away.  “There.  That should keep any sharks from sniffin’ us out now.  But just in case, let’s skedaddle.”  She took off again.  Stan sighed and reluctantly followed her.

“ _Why_ are we here?” Stan complained, after narrowly missing another clump of dangerously sharp staghorn coral. 

“Didn’t I tell ya?” Angie asked.

“Uh, no.  You said ‘Stan, let’s just go now and get it over with.’  I don’t even know what ‘it’ is!”  Angie stopped swimming. 

“That’s right, ya wouldn’t know.  I doubt humans have the same traditions as merfolk.”

“So?  What are we doing?” Stan said, finally catching up to her.

“Gettin’ a bed, of course,” Angie said.  Stan frowned at her.

“…What?”

“Well, now we’re officially mates, we’re s’posed to get a bed to share,” Angie said, taking a careful seat on a nearby rock.  She twitched her tail away from some nearby coral, startling a small group of fish into darting off.

“Okay, hear me out,” Stan said, sitting next to her.  “We get a bed _after_ we move outta your folks’ house.”  Angie cocked her head.

“Why would we move out right now?  We don’t have any guppies.  There’s no real reason to leave,” she said simply.  Stan put his head in his hands.

“Great.  More culture clash.”

“Culture clash?”

“Yeah.”  Stan rubbed his face.  “Explain to me why we wouldn’t move yet.”

“It just makes sense to stay put,” Angie said.  “It’s safer and has monetary benefits.  So merfolk live with their parents until they lay their first clutch.  Is that not what humans do?”

“Nope.  Not usually, at least.”

“Oh.”  A moment passed.  “We can leave my folks’ house if that’s what ya want.”

“How about we table this conversation,” Stan said.  “We can talk about it later.  Right now, let’s just do what we came here to do.”  He eyed the bright-colored coral surrounding them.  “Getting a bed in a coral reef.  For some reason.”

“We’re here to harvest it.  We grow our beds,” Angie explained. 

“Like, the bed frame?”

“Yep.  Pa’s fam’ly has this secret to growin’ bed frames from coral.  Ain’t many merfolk who know how to do it.”

“What about the mattress?” Stan asked. 

“That’s somethin’ we’ll need to buy at the store.  But seriously, hon, we don’t need to get the bed now.”

“Nope.  I got hurt, so I’m doin’ it now,” Stan said firmly.  He looked around.  “Where’s the bed coral?”

“Just a lil bit further.”  Stan groaned.  “Don’t worry, we’re past the worst of the staghorn now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


	4. Pines Family Reunion

“I’m here to pick up an order,” Shermie informed the maître d.  “The name’s Sherman Pines.”

“I’ll go see if it’s ready,” the maître d replied.  Shermie took a seat near one of the large windows, absentmindedly eavesdropping on conversations.  His ears perked up at a very distinctive and familiar laugh.  He looked around, his gaze eventually landing on a man he recognized, sitting across from a woman he didn’t.  “Your order, sir,” the maître d said, coming back with a bag.

“Yeah, thanks,” Shermie said, taking the food and handing his credit card to the maître d, before walking over to his youngest brother. 

“And then Harper told me had been jokin’ the whole time,” the woman sitting with Stan said, apparently finishing a story.  Stan laughed.  Shermie frowned at the food in front of Stan.

_Grilled fish.  A weird looking side salad.  And a glass of wine?_

“I mean, you _could_ stand to eat healthier,” Shermie said abruptly.  “Glad to see you’re finally working on it.”  Stan dropped his fork.  The woman looked at Shermie, perplexed.

“Who are you?” she asked.  Stan turned his head.

“H-hey, Shermie,” Stan stammered.  “Angie, this is my older brother, Sherman.  But we call him Shermie.”

“Ah,” the woman, Angie, said, nodding.

“So why are you suddenly eating like you care about your body?” Shermie asked Stan.

“Uh, Angie’s the one who actually convinced me to mix it up,” Stan said.  Shermie crossed his arms.

“You’re letting her talk you into eating better?  Wow, must be serious.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Pretty- pretty serious, yeah.”

“Geez, Stan.  This is- this is weird.”

“What?”

“You disappear for two years, then show up at a fancy restaurant, acting like nothing’s wrong, and eating something I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat before.  Is this all because of…Angie, was it?”  Angie nodded.  “Is this all because of Angie?”  Shermie held out a hand.  “By the way, pleasure to meet you, Angie.”  Angie smiled and shook the offered hand.

“Likewise, Shermie.”

“Yeah, Angie’s the reason,” Stan said.  Angie rolled her eyes.

“Wow,” Shermie mumbled.  “You really are serious.”  Angie smiled fondly at Stan.

“We’re actually celebratin’, tonight,” Angie said, stroking one of Stan’s hands.  “That’s why we’re here.”

“Celebrating what?” Shermie asked.

“We-” Angie started.

“We’re married,” Stan blurted out.  Shermie almost dropped the bag of food in shock.  Angie cocked her head, looking at Stan with a slightly puzzled expression.

“You’re married?” Shermie said, aghast.  “But that’s- how- who-”

“Ford’s the captain of the Stan O’War, so he’s got the ability to marry people,” Stan said.  “He married me and Angie.” 

“Wh- does Mom know?”

“…No.  Ford’s the only one in our family who knows.  And you too, now, I guess.”

“Holy shit, Stan, you’re _married_?” Shermie repeated.  Stan frowned at him.

“What, is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes!” Shermie said.  He ran a hand through his hair.  “Sweet Moses, Stan, this is- you drop off the face of the earth for two years, and come back with a _wife_.”

“…Yeah.”

“You do realize I have to tell Mom, right?”  Stan groaned and hung his head.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

“She’s gonna be pissed.

“Yeah, she is.”  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Look, Shermie, maybe we can catch up later?  Angie and I were kinda hoping to spend our date, y’know, _alone_.”

“Uh, sure, yeah, that works,” Shermie said.  The maître d walked over to Shermie and handed him his credit card.  “How about tomorrow, 6pm, at the beach.  I’ll bring Mom.”

“Sounds- sounds great, Sherm,” Stan said in a defeated tone.  As Shermie walked away, he glanced back at Stan and his wife.

 _Stan has a_ wife _.  How did_ that _happen?_

 

* * *

 

“Okay, no need to be nervous,” Stan whispered to Angie.  She fussed with her dress.  “Just Mom, Shermie, maybe Aunt Gidget and some cousins.  And your folks, too.  When are they-”

“They left ‘fore we did, ‘member?” Angie said.  “They didn’t want to wait while ya convinced me the eggs would be fine.”  She bit her lip.  “They will be, right?”

“Harper’s watchin’ ‘em.”

“But what if-”

“They’re eggs.  They’re not gonna go anywhere.  And while we’re on the subject, don’t mention ‘em.  Mom doesn’t need to know that her future grandkids were laid by you.  She might have a heart attack.”  Angie rolled her eyes. 

“I know that.”

“Shit, almost forgot.”

“What?” Angie asked. 

“Turn around.”

“Okay…” Angie said hesitantly, doing as she was told.  Stan unclasped the necklace Angie was wearing.  He jiggled the chain, making the ring it was holding slide off into his palm.  Angie turned around again and looked at him, perplexed.

“Mom’s gonna expect my wife to be wearing a wedding ring,” Stan explained.  “And even though we didn’t have a wedding, or get married, this ‘ll work.”

“Ya gave it to me when agreed to be mates,” Angie said quietly.  “Sounds like the human concept of ‘marriage’ to me.”  She held out her hand.  Stan carefully slid the ring on her finger.  Angie smiled at him.  “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.  Wait, no.  Forgot something.”

“What?”

“This.”  Stan kissed her.  The door to Ma Pines’ house opened.

“Aw, look at these two lovebirds.  I thought I heard voices!” Shermie said.  Stan and Angie broke apart, startled.  “No need to stop on my account.”  Stan shoved his older brother roughly.

“Weirdo.”

“Yup.  Angie, lovely to see you again.”

“Nice to see you as well, Shermie,” Angie said pleasantly.  Shermie stood to the side.

“Come on in, then!”  Stan and Angie filed inside.  Noticing the panicked look in her eyes, Stan took a hold of Angie’s hand.  “Mom, Stan and his wife are here!” Shermie called, walking away. 

“It’ll be okay,” Stan whispered to Angie.  She nodded silently.  “We’ve got our story straight, and Mom is gonna love ya.”  As if summoned by Stan mentioning her, Ma Pines appeared in front of Stan and Angie.  Ma Pines propped a hand on her hip.

“Look who it is.  My youngest son that I haven’t seen in years.  And his lovely wife.”  Angie smiled, all traces of nervousness hidden. 

“You must be Mrs. Pines,” Angie said sweetly. 

“Oh, honey, we’re family.  Call me Cassie,” Ma Pines said.  She held out her arms.  “Can I get a hug from my son and daughter-in-law?”

After the rather awkward hug, Stan and Angie followed Ma Pines into the living room.  Ma McGucket leapt up from the couch she and Pa McGucket were sitting on.

“Sweetie, there ya are!” Ma McGucket said, enveloping Angie in a tight hug.  “Stan fin’ly pulled ya away from the eggs, I see,” she whispered to her daughter.  Angie nodded.  “Sugar-cube, they’ll be fine.  Trust me.”  Angie nodded again and broke off the hug.

“Your parents were just telling me that you’re a singer?” Ma Pines said to Angie.  Angie blinked.

“Uh, yes?” Angie said.  “In- in a manner of speakin’.”

“Would you mind doing some singing for us?” Ma Pines asked.  Angie paled.  “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

“Angie gets stage fright,” Stan fibbed.  “She needs time to prepare, before she takes the stage.” 

“A singer with stage fright.  And I thought I’d seen everything by now,” Ma Pines said idly.  “Well, are you hungry at all?”

“Starving,” Stan said.  Angie nodded.  “But, um, Mom, Angie’s got some dietary restrictions.  Her family’s a specific kind of-”

_Shit, we didn’t come up with a name for the phony religion?_

“Catholic,” Ma McGucket supplied.  “We don’t eat red meat, bread, dairy, or most alcohols.”

“Oh.”  Ma Pines crossed her arms and frowned at Stan.  “You coulda told me ahead of time that your wife has such a limited diet.”

“Slipped my mind.”

“Hang on,” Shermie said, seemingly appearing out of thin air next to Stan.

_Sweet Moses, did my family learn to turn invisible while I was gone?_

“Is that why you were eating so healthy the other night?” Shermie asked Stan.

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘healthy’,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“Grilled fish, a seaweed side salad, and a glass of wine?  Compared to the fish and chips plus two bottles of beer you usually have, yeah, it’s healthy.”

“Seaweed?” Ma Pines asked, puzzled.

_Goddammit, things are getting out of hand!_

“Cassie, how ‘bout showin’ these young folks the food,” Ma McGucket said smoothly.  “Like they said, they’re starvin’.”

“Oh, sure.  Stanley, I’ll need to ask you why you suddenly like seaweed at some point,” Ma Pines said, already walking away.  Stan and Angie followed her into the kitchen. 

“This looks lovely,” Angie said kindly. 

“Hell of a spread, Mom,” Stan agreed. 

 _But almost nothin’ safe for a mer._   As a human, his mouth would have been watering at the sight of latkes, a cheese platter, and cake.  Now, however, his stomach turned over.  _I feel sick just lookin’ at all the food I can’t eat anymore._

“Stan, I made you a special treat,” Ma Pines said happily.  “I was hoping Angie would be able to have some as well, but it’s got all the things Sally listed as taboo.”  Ma Pines lifted the lid off a casserole dish.  Stan felt his stomach do a backflip at the smell.  “Steak and kidney pie!  Your favorite!”

“Y-yep,” Stan stammered. 

“And we’ve got plenty of sour cream to top it with.”

“S-sounds great, Mom.  You’re the best.”

“I’ll let you two get your food.  Then come to the living room.  I wanna hear all about how the two of you met, and when you started dating, and when you got engaged, and the wedding.  All of it!”

“Got it,” Stan mumbled, still staring at the steak and kidney pie.  Ma Pines left the kitchen.

“Ya don’t need to eat it, hon,” Angie whispered to Stan.

“No, I do.”

“Stan, that sort of food is incredibly rough on mer stomachs.  No matter how good it is, it won’t be worth it.”

“Ya think I like bein’ greener than Fiddleford’s scales?” Stan said.  He swallowed.  “But I have to eat it.  Mom won’t let it slide.  She’s the one who would let me have bacon on special occasions.  Even if she bought that I’m doing the same weird religious diet you are – which she won’t – she knows that I cheat for parties.  If she thinks somethin’s up, she won’t let it go, and all the practice we did to keep the mer thing a secret will be pointless.  She’ll get to the bottom of it, no matter what.”

“Then just get a lil bit,” Angie suggested. 

“Get yourself a big slice of that pie, Stan!” Ma Pines called from the living room.  “It’s all yours!” 

“That won’t happen either,” Stan muttered, getting a plate.  Angie kissed him on the cheek.”

“Yer such a considerate ‘husband’,” Angie said quietly.  “I’ve got the sweetest, noblest man fer a mate.  Takin’ the fall fer my fam’ly.”

“Don’t know how noble I’ll feel later tonight,” Stan replied.  Angie leaned against him.

“It’ll suck, yep.  But I’ll take care of ya, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


	5. Guppies

“Fiddleford, I’m home!” Ford called, setting his bag down by the door.  He’d left on a quick trip to the surface, to pick up some old things from his previous life as a human.  He opened his bag and dug through it idly.

 _It’s more for nostalgia than actual use._   Ford pulled a tiny piece of clothing out of the bag.  _What is this?  Oh, right, my favorite sweater when I was a child.  It went through the wash and shrunk._

“Fiddleford?” Ford said.  “I brought back some things you might be interested in.”  No response.

 _Where is he?_   Still holding the shrunken sweater, Ford swam off in search of Fiddleford.  He stopped by the nursery, his ears picking up on wailing come from the room.  Ford hesitantly opened the door and was immediately blasted by loud screaming from his two-month-old son, Tate.  Tate was the only guppy that hatched in Ford and Fiddleford’s surprise (they decided that was a better word than “accidental”) clutch.  But despite the near-constant care and attention he received, Tate only stopped crying when he was asleep. 

“I didn’t hear ya come home, darlin’,” Fiddleford said over Tate’s dissatisfied screams.

“I can deduce why,” Ford replied, swimming over.  Fiddleford was sitting in the rocking chair, Tate in his arms.  Tate’s face was red and scrunched up as he continued to wail.

“Nothin’ calms him down, I don’t understand,” Fiddleford said desperately.  He stroked Tate’s wild hair.  “I mean, ‘cept fer singin’, but singin’ sends him off to sleep.  And I don’t want him to be asleep all the time.”

“Well, the last time I held him, he seemed a bit cold, so I put a blanket over him.  He calmed down pretty quickly,” Ford suggested.  Fiddleford frowned.

“But he ain’t cold right now.  If anything, he’s hot.  Worked himself up almost into a fever with all this fussin’.”

“Maybe the weight is comforting.  Honestly, though, what do we have to lose?” 

“Fair enough.”  Fiddleford took a blanket from the basket next to the rocking chair.  He draped it over Tate’s tail.  Tate continued to cry.  Fiddleford moved the blanket up Tate’s body, Tate’s crying getting quieter as he did so.  When the blanket completely covered Tate’s torso, Tate was dead silent, staring at Ford and Fiddleford with wide eyes.

“Was that all it took?” Ford whispered, worried a loud voice might set off his son.

“I- I don’t know.”  Fiddleford kissed Tate on his forehead.  “Did ya just want a blanket, baby?”  Tate giggled.  “He- he laughed.  He ain’t done that yet, he’s been so busy cryin’,” Fiddleford said quietly.  He leaned back in the rocking chair.  The movement jostled the blanket off Tate’s torso, making him cry again.  “Is it the blanket?  Or does he just like to be covered?” Fiddleford wondered out loud, quickly repositioning the blanket. 

“We can test it,” Ford said.  “I, uh, accidentally brought back one of my childhood sweaters that shrunk.  It should fit Tate.”  He held out the sweater.

“…Worth a try.”  Fiddleford removed the blanket.  Tate began to scream again.  “Oh, hush, baby boy, it’ll be okay,” Fiddleford cooed as he put the sweater on Tate.  “Careful over the ears, don’t scrape up against yer scales, and there.  Now yer all covered up.  Dressed like a cute lil human,” Fiddleford said, poking Tate’s nose.  Tate giggled again.

“Holy Moses, I can’t believe it worked,” Ford said.  Tate beamed and reached his tiny arms out to Ford. 

“Aw, do ya want yer Dad?” Fiddleford said sweetly.  Ford took Tate and smiled down at his son.

“You’re a lot cuter when you don’t cry,” Ford remarked.  Tate giggled.  “Wow, when he’s not screaming, he’s such a happy child.”  He stroked Tate’s hair.  “…We should probably get him something to wear that isn’t a wet sweater.”

“Yes, definitely.”

 

* * *

 

Stan swam into the nursery, carrying Molly.  After a long visit from Lute, he and Molly were both ready to sleep.  

“Angie?” Stan called hesitantly.  

“Mm?”  Stan looked over at the corner of the room the guppy basket was kept in.  Like she had been when he checked in three hours ago, Angie was curled around the guppy basket, staring intently at the egg that had yet to hatch.  She reached out a hesitant finger and prodded it, eliciting irate swirls from the unborn guppy inside.

“Angie, babe, I know you’re worried,” Stan said, joining her by the guppy basket.  Angie made another noncommittal noise.  “But it’ll hatch.  It’s still moving, and still warm.”

“ _When_ will it hatch, though?” Angie whispered.  Stan didn’t have an answer.  Molly shifted in his arms and made a small smacking sound with her lips.  “Stan, we had twenty-eight eggs in this guppy basket.  Only two were of hatchin’ quality.  And- and it’s been a whole month since Molly hatched.  Will our other guppy  _ever_ come out?”

“What did your parents say?  That there were two months between you and Lute hatching, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So this might just be a family thing, or something.”  Angie buried her head in her arms.

“It was such a small clutch, though,” she said quietly.  “And with a really low hatchin’ rate.”

“Hey, you were worried  _none_ of ‘em would hatch.  It’ll work out.  You’ll see.  In a couple days, we’ll have two kids.  Not one,” Stan said, kissing her on the cheek.  Molly began to fuss.  “I think our current kid is hungry, though.”  Angie bit her lip.  “I’ll watch the egg while you feed Molly.”

“Thank you, darlin’,” Angie said.  She gave him a kiss and took Molly from him, then left the room.  Stan took up Angie’s watch, his tail idly beating against the gentle currents in the room.  

“All right, here’s the deal, kid,” Stan said quietly.  “You’re stressing your mom  _way_ too much.  So you better get outta there soon.  Understand?”  As though it did understand, the guppy inside the egg began to move rapidly.  Stan blinked, surprised.  A tear appeared in the egg’s thin membrane.  A few seconds later, a head popped out.  

 _It’s a girl._   Stan carefully reached into the basket and picked up his daughter.  She stared at him with wide brown eyes.  There was more movement from the egg.  Stan’s jaw dropped as another guppy clawed its way out of its former home.   _No way.  How many are in there?_   The second guppy, a girl as well, blinked at him.  

“H-hey,” Stan stammered, scooping her up in his other arm.  She beamed and reached out eagerly to grab at his nose.  Angie swam into the room.

“She’s fed and ready to be put down.  And actually, I think we could all use some…sleep…”  Angie trailed off upon catching sight of the guppies in Stan’s arms.  She gasped.  “Where did those lil ones come from?”

“The egg you laid.”

“What?  It hatched?  Really?”  Angie swam quickly over to Stan.  “Oh, look at ‘em,” she cooed.  “They’re beautiful.  But I wish I was there fer the hatchin’.”

“Eh, wasn’t much different from when Molly hatched.  Except for there being two in the same egg.  That doesn’t seem…normal.”

“Just means they’re twins is all,” Angie said.  She smiled weakly.  “They’re so precious, goodness.”  

“And all I had to do to get them to hatch was threaten ‘em.”

“Stan!”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”  Stan grinned down at his twin daughters.  “But I probably shouldn’t do any more of that.”  The second twin giggled.  “Whattaya think of your sisters, Molly?” Stan asked.  Molly looked over at the other members of her clutch and blinked slowly.   

“I think she likes ‘em,” Angie said.  “So’s long as they don’t hog all of Mom and Dad’s attention, right?” she said in a goofy voice, nuzzling Molly.  Molly chortled and tried to grab fistfuls of Angie’s hair.  

“God, Angie.  We have three kids,” Stan said quietly.  “A couple months ago, we didn’t have any.  Just a bunch of eggs in a basket.”

“Yeah.”  Angie sighed softly.  “But only three guppies out of twenty-eight…”

“I know you were hoping for something like your dad’s parents had,” Stan said, carefully shifting the now sleeping twins in his arms.  “But I like this better.  It’s less chaotic than the clutch of what, sixty?  And how many hatched out of that?”

“Pa’s clutch?  Twenty-one.”

“Yeah, imagine taking care of twenty-one kids all at once.  We really dodged a bullet there.”  Angie smiled at him.  She reached out a webbed hand to stroke the older of the twins.  

“You were convinced that was close to what we’d be stuck with. Fer an embarrassingly long time, by the way.”

“No need to remind me.”

“Yer right, though,” Angie said.  “This is better.  Our three lil girls.”  She gave Stan a kiss on the cheek.  “Let’s put our guppies in the guppy basket, darlin’, and go to bed.  We’ll need our rest, what with havin’ three lil ones and all.”

 

* * *

 

Danny hummed as she played with Stan’s hair.  Stan had decided to take the guppies on a trip to a small coral reef nestled between a clump of boulders.  It was a short swim from the house, and located near a kelp forest.

 _So if somethin’ comes up, I can put ‘em in there until it’s safe again._   Stan watched Daisy and Molly play together, pointing out cool fish and poking crabs scuttling among the coral.  He was surprised by how quickly he’d adjusted to the overprotective mindset merfolk had with their guppies.  _And I’m still not as intense about it as Angie.  I mean, I know overprotective.  But these merfolk, they take it a step further._

“Daddy, look!” Daisy shrieked, pointing at a large moray eel poking out from a hole in the rocks.  Stan winced at its large teeth. 

“Yeah, that’s an eel.”

“Can we keep it?” Molly asked.  She attempted to grab the eel.  It swam away from her.

“No.  No, we are not keeping eels,” Stan said shortly, swimming over to stop her from antagonizing the wildlife.  Molly pouted.

“Ma wouldn’t mind,” Daisy said.  “We have Bubbles.”

“Bubbles is different.  Bubbles followed us home.  And anyways, Bubbles doesn’t have scary teeth.”

“Eel’s small like Bubbles, though,” Molly whined.

“Nope.  Not takin’ wild animals home,” Stan said firmly.  He looked at his wrist, remembered that he didn’t have a watch that worked underwater, and then squinted up at the sun shining weakly through the water.  “Looks like it’s time to head back anyways,” he hedged.

_I think it’s almost dinnertime.  Maybe._

“How do you know?” Daisy asked.

“You look at the sun, and where it is in the sky will tell you the time,” Stan explained.  “But I’m not as good at it as your ma.”  He looked around.  “…Where’d your sister go?”

“Kelp?” Daisy suggested.  Stan was suddenly tackled by Danny.

“Oh, you wanna play now?” Stan asked her.  “We’re about to head out.  Where was this energy ten minutes ago, huh?”  Danny clung to him, shaking.  “What’s wrong, princess?” 

“Sc- scary,” Danny stammered. 

“What’s scary?” Molly asked. 

“In the kelp. Big- big monster.”

“In the kelp?” Stan repeated.  “Are ya sure?”  Danny let out a low wail.  “Okay, okay, you’re sure,” Stan said, carefully ruffling her hair. 

 _I thought the kelp forests were safe for guppies.  That’s why they have those green scales at first.  To hide._  Stan looked over at the kelp forest, undulating in a manner that, moments ago, had been peaceful and calm.  Now, it felt ominous.  He felt his heartrate speed up.  _Even if Danny’s just overreacting like guppies sometimes do, they can’t stay around here.  I can’t risk it._

“All right, we’re headin’ back home, girls,” Stan said firmly.  “Grab on.”  Daisy and Molly dutifully latched onto him like Danny.  A low roar reverberated through the water. 

 _What the hell was that?_   Stan glanced over at the kelp forest.  An eel his size, if not bigger, had emerged from the seaweed and was approaching them.  Fast.  Stan swallowed nervously. 

“Hold on,” he instructed his daughters.  As he turned away from the eel, intending on taking off as fast as physically possible, the eel let out another roar.  Daisy screamed.  Instinctively, Stan whipped his arm around, blocking the eel from taking a bite out of his youngest guppy.  He winced as the eel’s teeth dug into his skin.  “Buddy, you made a big mistake,” Stan growled.  “ _No one_ messes with my family.”  He landed a solid punch on the eel’s face with his free arm.  The eel swam away, stunned.  Stan took the opportunity and immediately bolted from the area.  “Still holdin’ on, girls?”

“Yeah,” Daisy squeaked.  “Than- thanks, Daddy.” 

“Don’t thank me, sweetie.  Just doin’ my job as your dad.”  Stan looked over his shoulder.  The eel and kelp forest were in the distance now.  Stan let a small part of him be proud of how quickly he could escape danger. 

“Why was it in the kelp?” Molly asked. 

“I- I don’t know.  We’ll have to ask your ma about that, pumpkin.”

 

“And then I booked it,” Stan said, finishing up his story as Angie carefully bandaged his wounded arm.  “The girls kept a hold of me, like I told ‘em to, and we all made it here in one piece.”  Angie shook her head.

“No wonder the lil ones didn’t want to be left alone,” Angie said solemnly, glancing at the guppy basket in the corner of the nursery.  The girls were fast asleep there, exhausted and stressed from the earlier encounter.  “Guppy eels are bad news.  I never ran into one when I was a guppy, but Violynn and Harper did.  Scared ‘em to bits fer weeks, accordin’ to Ma ‘n Pa.”

“Wait, you’ve heard of this thing?”

“Of course I do.  All merfolk know ‘bout guppy eels.”  Stan looked at her.  “Well, merfolk raised in the ocean, darlin’.”

“What is a guppy eel?” Stan asked her.  Angie sighed.

“A large kind of eel what preys on guppies ‘n mer eggs.  They’re the main predator of young merfolk, since they hide in kelp forests.  A mer senses danger and hides their guppies in the seaweed and- and that’s when them nasty eels strike.”  Angie bit her lip.  “Lordy, I don’t want to even think ‘bout what would have happened, if Danny hadn’t seen the eel when she did.”

“Yeah.”  Stan stared at his sleeping guppies, suddenly feeling woozy.  “Do we tell someone about the guppy eel?”

“Oh, yes.  I’ll get a hold of Ma ‘n Pa.  They’ll notify the proper authorities that a guppy eel was spotted near the colony.  Can’t let ‘em get any of our clutches.”

“Good,” Stan mumbled.  Angie looked at him, concerned. 

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?”

“Feel…funny.”

“Oh.  Oh, no.”  Angie patted Stan’s face to keep him from falling unconscious.  “Stanley, did the guppy eel have bioluminescent markin’s?”

“Wha?”

“Did it glow?”

“Yeah.  Sp- spots.”

“Shoot.  Oh, no.  Honey, ya got bit by one of the venomous ones!”

“Oh.  Whoops.”

“No, not ‘whoops’.  We need to get ya to a doctor right away!” Angie said.  She slung one of Stan’s arms over her shoulders.  Carrying him this way, she exited the nursery.  “Lute!  Pa!  Someone, anyone, help!” she called throughout the house.  As blackness encroached on Stan’s vision, he could hear muffled voices in the background.  Angie locked her gaze with his.  “Keep those pretty eyes of yours open, okay?”

“Tired,” Stan mumbled blearily.  Someone, maybe Lute, picked him up.  Angie continued her intense eye contact. 

“We’ll get ya to some medicine, hon.”

“Mmkay,” Stan hummed. 

“Just stay with me, darlin’,” Angie said.  Stan’s eyelids began to close.  She repeated herself, urgently.  “Stay with me.”

 

Stan groaned loudly.

“Stanley?” a worried voice asked.  Stan’s eyes snapped open.  Hovering over him nervously were the faces of his mate and twin brother.  “Yer fin’ly awake!” Angie gushed, stroking his face.  He winced.  Angie removed her hand.  “I’m so sorry, darlin’, I didn’t know that hurt.”

“Everything hurts,” Stan groaned.  He blinked.  “That- that hurt.  How the hell did closing and opening my eyes hurt that much?”

“Ya just had venom coursin’ through every inch of ya, darlin’,” Angie said.  Stan frowned.

“I had what?”

“The guppy eel you protected the girls from,” Ford said, “was venomous.  It bit you.”

“…Oh.”  Stan pushed himself up into a sitting position with a moan of pain.  He looked around the room.  “I’m in our bedroom, Ang?  I woulda thought I’d be in a hospital or somethin’.”

“Merfolk don’t have hospitals,” Ford said.  He glanced at Angie.  “I tried explaining what it was to the MerGuckets, but I don’t think they fully understand.”

“Why would ya put all yer sick people in one place?” Angie said to Ford.  “That’s just askin’ fer trouble!  So many weak folk in one spot, predators would sniff it out fast.  No, ya have to surround the ill with the healthy.  Fer protection.”

“I told you, humans don’t have to worry about predators sniffing out the sick.  And even if they did, humans have more advanced weaponry than spears and persuasion,” Ford snapped.  Angie hissed at him.

“Can you guys cut it out?” Stan asked weakly.  “I love seein’ you guys at each other’s throats and all, but I’m in too much pain to enjoy it.”  Angie and Ford looked back at him with apologetic expressions.

“Sorry, hon,” Angie said softly, kissing Stan on the cheek.  He smiled at her.

“Where are the girls?” he asked.

“Playin’ with Lute,” Angie answered.  “We decided to keep ‘em away from ya until you woke up and weren’t too weak.”  Stan nodded.  He rubbed his eyes.

“What happened after I passed out?”

“Lute and I heard Angie calling for help,” Ford said.  “We found you near unconscious, as pale as a ghost, being carried by Angie.  Lute took over carrying you and told Angie to stay in the house, with the guppies, so that she could keep them calm while the two of us took you to a healer.”  Ford’s eyes flicked over to Angie momentarily, then back to Stan.  “Angie was…very frustrated by that.”

“Of course I was!” Angie burst out.  “Stan had passed out at that point.  That’s scary close to the point of no return.  When ya have guppy eel venom in yer veins, yer s’pposed to stay awake!  I should’ve gone with my mate while _you_ watched the kidlets.”

“Regardless,” Ford continued, “Lute and I were able to get you to a healer in time.  The healer told us that if we had been even a few minutes later, there would have been no way to save you.”  Stan’s heart stopped.

“Wait, really?” he whispered.  Ford and Angie nodded.  “From a damn snake?”

“Eels aren’t snakes,” Ford and Angie said together.  Stan looked down at his hands.  They, along with his arms, were still much paler than usual.

“Damn, I- I got really sick,” Stan said quietly.

“You did,” Angie said.  She stroked his hair.  “Thank you, by the way.  By fightin’ off that eel, ya didn’t just save our guppies.  The colony sent out guppy eel hunters and found a whole nest of ‘em right next to the busiest part of the reef.  Every day, parents take their guppies there.  If you hadn’t seen that eel, so many folk ‘round here could’ve lost their children.”

“Well, Danny’s the one who saw the eel, so she deserves the credit,” Stan said.  “I just punched it and got bitten and nearly killed.” 

“Don’t downplay what you did, Stanley,” Ford said.  “You can claim that, without you, the alarm might have been raised in time for the colony to get rid of the nest of eels.  But you can’t deny that your actions saved Molly, Danica, and Daisy.”  Stan shrugged.

“I was just bein’ a dad, y’know,” he mumbled.  Angie smiled at him.

“I knew you’d be an amazin’ father,” she said softly.  Stan smiled back at her.  There were muffled voices and squeals of delight from outside the bedroom.  “Speakin’ of yer children, are ya up fer seein’ ‘em?”  Stan nodded.

“Let those gremlins in.”  Angie swam over to the door and opened it.

“Girls, come hug yer dad!” she called.  Immediately, three guppies rocketed through the doorway.

“Dad!” Molly shouted, wrapping herself around Stan’s arm.  “We were so scared!”

“You looked so sick,” Danny added, snuggling against Stan’s chest.  Daisy latched onto his free arm, making quiet, nervous noises.

“Hey, I’m fine.  See?” Stan said.  “Your dad got a bit beat up protecting you, but he’s all right.”

“Sorry,” Danny mumbled.  Stan met her eyes, which were a rich brown like his.

“Danica Pines, don’t apologize.  Got it?  I was doin’ my job.  A dad is supposed to protect his kids, even if it gets him hurt.”

“But- but I saw the-”

“You did the right thing, dear,” Ford said.  “If you hadn’t told your father, then he might not have had enough time to get you to safety.”  Stan nodded.

“Your Uncle Ford’s right.”

“Okay,” Danny mumbled.  Stan attempted to stroke her hair, but was impeded by the weight of Molly and Daisy each clinging to one of his arms.  He sighed.

“Ang?”

“On it.”  Angie swam over and carefully detached Molly and Daisy from Stan’s arms.  She set them down in Stan’s lap with Danny.  Angie playfully poked Molly’s nose.  “You three are just lil limpets, ain’t ya?  Stickin’ yourselves to yer dad like barnacles on a ship.”  Molly grinned cheekily at her.

“Yep!” Molly chirped.  Angie chuckled.  Stan yawned loudly.

“Do ya want me to send the girls away so that you can rest?” Angie asked.

“No,” Molly, Danny, and Daisy whined together.  Stan waved a hand.

“Nah.  If they wanna take a nap while their old man’s takin’ a nap, that’s fine by me,” he said.  Angie kissed him on the forehead.

“We’ll leave ya to have some shuteye, then.”  Before she and Ford had even left the room, Stan’s eyes were closed, and he was snoring, along with the three guppies still piled on him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


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